


Worlds Apart

by books_are_my_patronus1397



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan, Robin Hood (Traditional)
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6923179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/books_are_my_patronus1397/pseuds/books_are_my_patronus1397
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war in Araluen is over and King Richard is back in England-peace reigns once again. Marian has returned home and Robin has been restored as the rightful Lord of Locksley. But their enemies are not finished yet, and threaten everything they hold dear. Now Robin and Marian must once again find a way to save their countries and, maybe, find a way back to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to Normal

Two riders and their ponies meandered down the forest trail, the ponies' tails swishing in tandem. Both riders sported mottled green and grey cloaks, a familiar symbol throughout Araluen. They each carried a quiver across their backs, stuffed full with 24 black-shafted arrows. Though there were only two people, anyone who knew anything about the Rangers of Araluen would know not to give them any trouble on this journey.

Both Rangers had the hoods of their cloaks up, shadowing their faces. This meant passersby wouldn't notice that one of them had the same light grey eyes or long curly hair of the only female Ranger in the country. The grizzled Ranger on her left was only slightly taller than she was and his beard that was more salt than pepper anymore would notify anyone who her travelling companion was, if people only bothered to look.

"Are we almost there?" Marian Harwood asked, her voice a clear, soothing alto. She was disciplined enough not to fidget in her saddle, but her Ranger pony picked up on her anticipation anyway and snorted. Marian absently patted Sky's neck while she waited for an answer.

"Every time," Halt muttered to himself. Abelard's ears flicked back and forth and the old Ranger could have sworn his horse was laughing at him. He shot the young woman a withering glance. "Did Will tell you to ask me that?"

Marain didn't bother to keep a straight face. Instead she grinned at her second mentor, which lit up her face. "Well, it's tradition. I wouldn't want you to miss out just because he had to leave Castle Araluen later than we did."

Halt scowled, but Marian's laugh was bright an unaffected. Will Treaty was her official mentor, but Halt had temporarily taken his place while Will recovered from the wounds he suffered in the war. Marian and Halt got to know each other even better than before, and while Halt would tell anyone who asked he was too old to be shepherding an apprentice around, he could admit it to himself that he would have missed it if no one was around to ask the time-honored question, are we there yet?

"Maybe I should ask you the question. You are still training after all," Halt drawled.

Marian scrunched her face. She should have known he would turn the question back on her. Just because she was entering her last year of apprenticeship didn't mean she was off the hook. At least it meant she still had some time left with her mentors before she was truly on her own. She was secretly glad to be under someone else's wing again, where if she made a mistake or had a question she had someone to turn to.

"A couple of hours?" she asked. Halt raised one eyebrow and she winced. They both knew she could be more accurate. Marian raised her face to the breeze, noticing hints of the sea on the air. She calculated the distance they had already travelled and tried to eye the sun through the trees. "I would say we are about two and half hours from the Gathering Grounds."

Halt nodded once and Marian grinned. That was as good as she was going to get. "Maybe we should try to cut that time down a bit," he said.

"Don't you want to sneak up on the sentries?" she asked. Marian knew about Halt's penchant for keeping younger Rangers on their toes. "And what about Will?"

"Always with the questions," he sighed. They kept walking for a few more minutes and Marian thought he wasn't going to say anything else. But then he glanced at her and she could've sworn she saw his mouth twitch into an almost smile. "But I have a couple of ideas." At his signal Abelard moved into a canter. A breath of a moment later Marian followed suit and the two Rangers ate up the miles in front of them.

RMRMRMR

When they arrived at the open forest area where the Gathering took place, multiple tents had already sprouted on the grounds. Someone had raised the pavilion in the center of the Grounds, where the top officers would meet before everything started. She and Halt both dismounted and found a spot to set up camp, where both Will and Gilan would join them when they arrived.

They walked past the tents, greeting those they passed. Halt mostly nodded and Marian tried to smile, though it became a bit harder when she noticed so few of the available spaces were occupied. The Gathering would start soon and she knew from experience there should have been a lot more people here. But the war had taken its toll.

She took care of Sky, making sure to pour a few extra handfuls of oats into her collapsible bucket. Then Marian proceeded to clean up the campsite and pitch both her and Halt's tents. He was out, waiting for his former apprentices' arrival. Marian smiled, remembering Halt's good mood after their successful attempt at startling the sentries. When they were about half an hour out, Halt had dismounted and slipped away into the forest. Wait ten minutes, he had instructed her. Then send the horses on up the road. Follow me like you're trying not to be seen, but make sure they notice you're trying.

Marian made sure she picked out their positions before revealing her own. They saw her, just like Halt planned, but they didn't notice him. That was their undoing. She was glad she hadn't been one of the apprentices picked for that duty. She knew it wouldn't help them to know that Halt got the best of the younger Rangers every year. It always stung when you were bested.

She cleaned up the fire pit and adjusted the stones. She was really looking forward to some coffee later. After so long without being able to add honey to her coffee, she had learned to savor every sip.

"Excuse me."

Marian looked up from her work. A second year apprentice stood in front of her. He didn't have the bronze oak leaf, but Will had told her last year's Gathering was cancelled because of the fighting so none of the first-years had received their medallions yet.

"Yes?" Marian looked a little closer. "It's Christopher isn't it? Marek's apprentice."

His eyes widened a little, surprised that she knew his name. "Y-yes. Um, Halt sent me to find you. He says to tell you they're on their way."

A grin spread across her face. This was her chance to surprise Will in the honored tradition of apprentices and masters. "Thanks." She was about to take off when she remembered something. If the second-year hadn't gotten his medallion yet, this was the year he would be tested. "Oh, and good luck on your assessments!" she called over her shoulder. Marian was already running towards the trail, so she didn't hear the young apprentice's belated and slightly surprised 'thank you.'

RMRMRMR

Will's eyes never stopped moving, peering in to every shadow, analyzing every rustle as he and Gilan traveled closer to the Gathering Ground.

His companion laughed, noticing Will's alertness. "It's like you're expecting her to just drop out of the trees."

Will glanced up into the treetops. "I wouldn't put it past her," she muttered. "I've created a monster."

Gilan raised an eyebrow, looking eerily like Halt. "It's your own fault."

"I believe it's your fault," he retorted, with a half smile. "That first year you were the one trying to sneak up on him. I was just trying to live up to the reputation."

Blaze snorted and then Tug tossed his head. The two Rangers looked at each other, amused that their horses were taking up the verbal banter for them. Tug seemed like he was in the middle of a particularly stinging retort when both ponies pricked their ears forward.

Will and Gilan immediately went on alert, though you would never tell by looking at them. It was part of the Ranger training not to give any hints to those who might be following them that they had been spotted. They rounded a bend in the trail and saw Abelard standing patiently next to Halt, who carried a small hoof pick in his hand.

"Afternoon boys," the Ranger said.

"Halt!" Gilan cried delightedly. "We thought you would be way ahead of us."

Will nodded, eyeing the trees above them all with suspicion. "Where's Marian?"

Halt bent his head and picked up Ableard's hoof. "I sent her on ahead to get the campsite ready. Ableard picked up a stone somewhere so I stopped. You two must have made good time."

Despite his wariness Will really was glad to see his friend again and he couldn't help but tease him. "Or you're getting slow in your old age," he smiled.

Halt finished cleaning Abelard's hoof and then straightened to glare at him. "I didn't expect you to resort to 'old' jokes."

Will shrugged as Halt mounted his horse. "You make it too easy."

The Ranger huffed and nudged Abelard into a walk. "If you're done maybe we should continue on?" he suggested. Will and Gilan exchanged an amused glance before clucking to their ponies to follow.

RMRMRMR

Marian's calves burned. She had been crouched in the same position for almost twenty minutes, balancing on the thick branch overhanging the road. She was positioned just before the forest opened up to the Gathering Grounds. The plan was for Will to be suspicious right away and then relax as they walked and nothing happened.

She dug out a fine fishing wire from a pouch on her belt, loosening the loop at the end. If she had not have been trained to keep absolutely still she would've shaken her head in disbelief at Halt's plan. She was supposed to drop the wire over Will's quiver and as he rode the loop would tighten, catching one of the arrows. He wouldn't know what hit him until later, when she shot it towards him and he realized it was his own. It was the ultimate trick because the subject never knew it had occurred until later—only if it worked.

Marian froze when she finally heard voices, then let out a slow breath to relax her muscles. She peered down at the road from underneath the hood of her cloak while her body adjusted to the natural movement of the branch. Soon enough three horses came around a bend in the trees. She smiled a bit when she noticed Halt had successfully maneuvered Abelard so Will was at the back of the trio.

"I distinctly remember," Halt was saying. "You were trying to impress a girl. Then you feel into the water trough."

Gilan's face burned and Will shook with laughter. "That is not what happened, I was pushed!" Gilan protested.

Inch by inch she unspooled the wire as they came closer until the loop hovered at a level just above their heads. One part of her mind listened to the story while the other focused on getting her timing just right. Halt and Gilan passed under the wire and Marian counted the paces in her head.

As soon as Will was underneath she let it drop the last few inches, the wire falling loosely over the fletching of one of his arrows. When she pulled up Marian felt a burst of triumph as the loop tightened. Will kept moving and the wire was pulling away from her. As fast as she could without alerting him, Marian started reeling up her prize. The arrow had slid halfway out of its quiver when Tug stopped suddenly, his ears flicking back and forth.

Marian froze, the arrow stopped halfway out of its quiver. It was at such an angle that if she moved it now it would be like shouting her presence in Will's ear. She kept her breathing shallow, waiting to see if Tug would move again.

"What is it boy?" Will asked below her. Tug snorted and then stomped his back foot, jerking Will in the saddle. Marian's heart sank as the arrows clacked together, the sound just a little off. With anyone else the anomaly would go unnoticed, but she was trying to trick a Ranger.

Slowly Will looked over his shoulder. When he caught sight of the arrow, he followed the wire up into the tree. She knew the moment he made her out behind the leaves. His eyes searched the shadows for a moment and then finally focused, a grin spreading across his face.

"You might as well join us, Marian. It can't be too comfortable up there." She grimaced and then dropped to the ground, rolling and landing lightly on her feet.

"Sorry, Halt," she said, daring to look at the grizzled Ranger. Her cheeks felt warm. She knew it was going to be difficult to fool her mentor, but she still didn't like failing. Especially when someone else was counting on her.

Halt simply shook his head. It was probably a good thing she couldn't see the small smile under his beard. He wasn't laughing at her, but he knew exactly what she was feeling.

"Next time," he said.

"I'm not so sure about that," Will said.

Gilan examined the non-existent dirt under his fingernails. "I think it was actually Tug who uncovered Marian's ambush."

Tug swung his head around to look at Marian, seeming almost apologetic. She stepped up and rubbed his nose. "Don't worry Tug, I could never blame you." The pony lipped the edge of her cloak in thanks.

Will held his hand out. "Come on." She took his hand and he lifted her up behind him. "You did really well with concealment," he said. "You almost had me."

"Almost," she said, letting herself grumble just a bit. Will turned in the saddle as Tug started to move, giving her an admonishing look. Marian smiled sheepishly. "I mean, thank you."

"We have one more year before you get the silver oakleaf," Will said, the words settling her. "We'll work on it."

Marian huffed and Will laughed, kicking Tug to catch up to Halt and Gilan as the four of them rode into the Ranger Gathering.

RMRMRMR

They sat around the campfire, each nursing a cup of coffee after their supper. Marian stared into the dancing flames, feeling the heat on her skin and in her belly as she took another sip. They were on their own tonight, but tomorrow the Gathering would offically begin.

"Will, you'll be taking the first years again, as usual," Gilan said. They were running through the events Gilan had planned for the occasion. Even though most of it was already set, Gilan was the kind of person who liked to go through it all a final time before the day began. The firelight cast shadows across his face, making him seem serious, then mischievous, and then back again in moments. "Halt, you're still willing to teach a tactics lesson aren't you? I know you're so fond of it."

Halt grumbled but didn't say no, which invited a responding grin from his two former apprentices. "Excellent," Gilan said. "I'll be asking Eric if he can run archery and knife throwing, and perhaps Antony will monitor Capture the Flag."

Will glanced at Marian. "You think Antony is a good choice?" he asked.

Gilan nodded, though he may have been trying to convince himself. "I'll be watching as well, though he won't know it. He has a good mind, Will, and fair in most respects. I want to see if he can get past some of his limitations."

Will said nothing but Marian knew what he was thinking. He didn't have much hope for Antony putting aside his bitterness about the recent changes Marian has brought to the Ranger Corps.

"It's an early start tomorrow. I'm on first breakfast shift," Gilan said. "But before I go, there is a final matter that I need to address. Marian," Gilan said. "Now that Will is officially back in the field, as your mentor, I'm sure you want to know the status of your mission."

Marian sat up straighter, more alert than she had been all night. She had been waiting to hear news from the castle about what they were going to do with the information she had brought back from England. She knew it wouldn't be addressed during the Gathering proper, as what she had done was still a secret. But no one had mentioned in on the journey here so Marian had almost giving up on knowing.

She tried to make sure her expression only showed polite interest, but she couldn't quite hide the excited pitch to her voice. "Is Queen Cassandra ordering a search? Is she sending anyone else across?"

Gilan glanced at Will. "The Queen has decided there are more pressing matters at the moment."

Marian felt a chill, like the breeze that preceded an impending storm. This was not what she had expected. "What?"

"We have a lot of rebuilding to do, Marian," Will added. "Not just the Ranger Corps, but everywhere. Jeren hasn't been found yet. We can't spare the resources to send people over there. Your work with King Richard should be enough for now to establish friendly terms."

They were trying to placate her. She glanced at Halt, who didn't give anything away. Gilan leaned in, earnest. "Do not doubt that what you did was invaluable. In time, we will be able to take up communications again. But your primary goal was achieved once Jeren's rebellion was put down and it was safe to return home."

Marian set down her mug, massaging the dull ache that had spread out in her fingers. They did that sometimes now, late at night, ever since her time in the Nottingham dungeons. She knew it wasn't over. Jeren's forces may have been defeated, but why couldn't they understand that they needed to stay on top of things? The way the Sheriff had taunted her, and the implications behind her conversation with Prince John, all indicated to her that they had more going on. Marian could never shake the feeling that a threat was just around the corner, and the Queen was letting them walk into it unarmed.


	2. The Lord of Locksley

"Come in," Robin called out in response to the knock on his office door, looking up from his desk and the papers that littered the surface. Little John poked his head in, another stack of papers in his hand. When he saw the papers Robin slumped back in his chair.

"You know, I didn't think it would be like this, getting Locksley back," he said as John put the stack of papers down. "There shouldn't be so much paper involved."

John snorted. "What exactly do people have to say that takes up so much space?"

"Nothing, mostly. At least reports and inventory are useful. People just like to take up space on the page." Robin waved an opened letter in John's direction. "I just read another letter from Lord Canton about his support for my reclaimed heritage." Robin laughed in derision and then crumpled the letter, tossing it onto the floor. "Where was his 'support' when we were starving in Sherwood?" A breeze blew through the open window and the room filled with the sound of rustling paper. Sheaves flew off of their respective piles and mixed hopelessly together. Robin growled in frustration as he tried to grab the documents before they blew away. "Maybe you should shut-?" John started to suggest.

"No," Robin said, cutting John off. He didn't care if the room was messy, he needed to be able to taste the fresh air.

"John raised an eyebrow at Robin's vehemence but didn't press the matter. "Messenger is still here, do you want me to give him your acceptance?"

Robin shook his head. "I'm not going."

John frowned and crossed his arms. "Robin," he admonished. "It's the King's invitation to Queen Eleanor's birthday celebration. You _can't_ refuse."

"I don't want to go," he said, starting to look through the most recent missives. "Besides, I have too much to do here."

John glared at Robin. "You're acting like a child," he rumbled. The young man looked up from the papers, startled. "You've been putting off this invitation for weeks and the King has sent two of them! You are the Lord of Locksley now; you have to start behaving like it. Being too busy is no excuse. Everyone from Sherwood is either settling back into their homes or settling into the positions here at the manor you've created for them. You're training Will as your ward and you specifically appointed me steward to run the place when you're away. It's not like you will be leaving the place helpless. Lord knows why you picked me, but there it is." John sighed and then placed his hands on the desk. "I'll always be your right-hand man, Rob, but you need to start acting like the noble you are. You're better than this."

Robin glowered. He didn't like being scolded like an errant son. The rational part of him knew Little John was right, he had been avoiding a certain part of his responsibilities. But that only made the rebuke worse. And yet, he knew exactly what going to court would mean and he just couldn't quite face taking that step yet. Without a word he drew out a clean piece of parchment and dipped his quill in the inkwell. "What are you doing?" Little John asked.

"I'm sorry John," Robin said, his voice bitter. "I can't do it, not yet." He struggled to keep his penmanship smooth and avoid ripping the parchment with the force he put on the quill. "I can't just go back to London with a smile, pretend everything is fine, dance with noble ladies in the hopes of finding a wife, and come back to play at being lord instead of actually helping people like I used to." Robin signed the letter with a flourish and then sprinkled sand on it to help the ink dry. "This will make my refusal final. I'll make my excuses to the King and if that puts me out of favor, then all the better."

Robin felt John's gaze on him and he looked up reluctantly. The sympathetic understanding he saw there made him feel worse. "What?" Robin brushed the sand off and started to heat the wax he needed to seal the letter. Once it was liquefied he poured the dark green wax onto the parchment, watching the colors shift as it pooled together, already drying.

"Robin," John tried to comfort him. Abruptly Robin stood up, the chair scraping against the wood floor as he pushed it back. "Send this on when the wax dries. I'm going to help with the harvest."

"Wait, don't forget-" before John could finish, Robin was out the door. "Your visitor," he sighed. The boy was restless, John knew. It was difficult adjusting to normal life after living so long in the woods. He had heard the villagers speculating already about when the Locksley line would be assured. Of course, no one from the Sherwood camp who was close to Robin ever mentioned such things but the whispers were hard to avoid. Especially when he had been getting more and more letters from noble families extending invitations to dine and expressions of well-wishes, with most of those invitations coming from families with eligible daughters. They were like wolves circling a crippled stag.

John shook his head and took Robin's signet ring from his desk, the one they found in Robin's parents' old things, and pressed it into the wax. He wished he knew how to better help his friend. Neither of them quite understood this type of life and it felt like they were fumbling. For people so used to being in control, it was a strange feeling to get used to. He knew Robin would have to face it sooner or later, but he couldn't make the lord's choices for him. So John gathered the letter with the rest of his things and went to find the messenger, shutting the office door quietly behind him.

RMRMRMRMR

Robin pressed his hands to his lower back, stretching his sore muscles. His scythe lay on the ground and a path of broken stalks lay behind him, but acres of unbroken, swaying golden wheat still stretched to the horizon. There was a dark v-shaped stain on the neck of his linen shirt and his hands were sore and chapped. His body hurt and his stomach growled in hunger. Robin smiled. Here, he felt good. Here, he could be useful.

The field was dotted with bobbing figures, as his tenants continued their work. One of the men closest to him whistled. Robin looked up and then waved at the man's grin. He was much farther ahead than Robin was, and the tenant waved at him to hurry and catch up. Robin touched his finger to his forehead in acknowledgment, and then took a quick drink of his water from the canteen at his hip. He didn't mind the teasing from his farmers. He knew he was growing soft after months of living in the manor. His skin was fair compared to theirs and turned red in the sun rather than tan. Even his daily forest living hadn't built up the same kind of muscle strength they had and it was hard to keep up.

At first they were wary when he marched out to the field in work clothes one day, asking to be put to work. It took some time for them to take him seriously, but they appreciated his earnestness even if he did take longer than the rest of them. It was better than sitting in a room where he could barely breathe and responsibilities he wasn't sure how to handle swamped him. Here, he didn't have the energy to think about anything other than cutting the next swath and putting one foot in front of the other.

"Robin!" someone else called out, just as he bent to pick up his scythe once again. He turned to see one of the younger farmers pointing towards the manor. That was when he noticed an enclosed carriage rolling its way towards the gate accompanied by a small retinue of mounted guards.

Robin grimaced, remembering John's muffled warning that he had ignored during his escape to the fields. He had forgotten all about the visitor he had agreed to host. When he agreed weeks ago he thought an open invitation would help relations with neighboring families and the risk would be small that they would actually take him up on it. Then a few days ago he received a letter notifying him that the visitor needed a place to rest on their journey to the King's celebration. He couldn't seem to get away from it.

The man who had pointed out the carriage came over and took Robin's scythe with a crooked smile. "Looks like you have company milord," he said.

"I'm sorry Geoff," Robin said. "I didn't finish as much as I thought I could."

Geoff shook his head. "Any help is appreciated milord, especially from someone like yourself."

"A reformed outlaw?" Robin joked, wiping his sweaty face with the rag he carried, even though it didn't do him much good at this point.

"Exactly," Geoff laughed. "Go on milord, we have this in hand." Robin waved his hand in thanks and took off at a jog. He would make it to the house in time to greet his guest, but he wouldn't be the cultivated noble they probably expected. He felt a small twinge of spiteful glee at the prospect of a poor reaction.

He timed his arrival perfectly. Robin rounded the house as the carriage pulled to a stop. The horses snorted and pawed at the dirt when the driver pulled back on the reins. One of the soldiers dismounted and went to grab the carriage door but it popped open before he could reach it. A young woman poked her head out, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. "Mmmm," she said. "It's nice to feel fresh air. It was so stuffy in there!"

"Milady," an older woman dressed in a conservative grey gown and white cap said from behind her. "You should wait until he opens the door for you."

"I couldn't stay in there one more moment Gertrude," she said, exiting the carriage with a slight hop. Gertrude followed more sedately. The young woman's blue dress was tailored with immaculate skill and boasted intricate white embroidery and lace. Her hands were clad in dainty white gloves that presented a stark contrast to her glossy, raven-black hair as she patted her head to make sure her pins were still in place. Besides, I'm sure Lord Locksley isn't too scandalized." The lady Lucille's blue eyes, a deeper shade than her dress, sparkled with glee.

For a moment, Robin was thrown off balance. Despite his reluctance to host the noble he couldn't help the responding grin. He stepped forward and bowed. "As long as the lady isn't too scandalized by my lack of appropriate attire." Her guards stiffened but the lady laughed, extending her gloved hand. Robin took it and brushed his lips across her knuckles, as expected, and she didn't seem to mind one whit that the pristine white was now marred with dirt and sweat.

"It seems we're even," she said. Robin waited for her to wipe the glove clean, but she didn't even appear to notice, which was a refreshing change from the few nobles he had been forced to interact with the past few months.

"We've made room in the stables for your horses and carriage," Robin said. "Though I have to admit, when I received the request it seemed like your father would be coming."

Lucille inclined her head. "My father sends his regrets, but at the last moment decided it would be better if I went in his stead. As the youngest daughter it seems I haven't had enough time in society as yet. My chaperone, Gertrude, is accompanying me."

Robin bowed to the older lady, who was clearly reserving her judgment of the young lord. This, he expected. Robin offered his arm to escort Lucille into the manor. She took it without hesitation and Gertrude followed behind. By now a small crowd had gathered and Robin caught John's eye. The big man nodded and approached the carriage driver, offering to take Lucille's things to her room.

"I suppose it is appropriate that you at least attend the celebration, as I recall you used to be in the Queen Mother's service?" Robin asked, leading her through the manor. It was smaller than many noble houses, but it was clean and welcoming. He and all of his people had worked hard in the weeks following their reinstatement to clean up the place and, despite his unfamiliarity with his new position, Robin was proud of what Locksley had become. He couldn't see Gertrude's reaction but Lucille seemed to appreciate the manor as well.

"I was one of her ladies-in-waiting," she answered, her eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "When my sister married, the Queen thought it best for me to go home to my family." Then she smiled. "I agreed. I would much rather face my father's ire than the Queen's."

"Well I'm afraid our accommodations are not quite what you are used to," Robin said, stopping at the upstairs guest room. "But if there is anything you need do not hesitate to ask."

Lucille laid her other hand on his arm. "Your home is lovely, and I am deeply grateful for you allowing me to stay. I hope we haven't inconvenienced you too much. Neither of my parents relished the idea of me travelling for days without without rest. It is nice to have a respite."

"No inconvenience at all," Robin said. He extracted his arm and inclined his head. Though Lucille was pleasant, and kinder than he expected, he was already tired of performing the role of gracious host. He sighed to himself. He was going to have to learn to do a lot better than this. "I'll see you later this evening for dinner."

Lucille smiled prettily and then entered her room, Gertrude giving him a sharp, approving nod as she passed. When he heard the latch close behind her Robin let out a breath. He didn't realize how tense his shoulders were until he was able to relax. Then he remembered all the other arrangements he had to execute for the rest of Lucille's retinue. As he trudged back downstairs he had a thought that his was going to be a long couple of days.

RMRMRMRMRMR

Robin tugged at the hem of his tunic, concealing his action underneath the table. The clothing was stiff from receiving little use, but he had worn it now because society required him to dress more extravagantly than he usually did for supper now that he was dining with other nobility. Even the room they dined in felt foreign to him. He thought it too grand to eat in alone, so he, Will, and John usually ate in the kitchens with Lucy and the other servants. It was easier and cut back on everyone's work. Now, though, he had to entertain. So candles glittered along the oak tabletop, surrounding by platters of deceptively simple dishes. Loaves of warm bread steamed next to plates of fish in lemon sauce, lightly seasoned vegetables, and small pots of custard for dessert. He didn't know how Lucy did it but he had enjoyed every meal since coming back to Locksley and, for the first time in years, didn't feel the fear of going hungry.

Robin sat at the head of the table, and Lucille took a place on his right. Most of the food was picked over by this point in the evening, and both Gertrude and Will had left the table. Will because he wanted to go play with the village children after supper and Gertrude because she said her old bones required her to retire early, especially after a long day of travel. The hall was still filled with servants so she didn't feel the need to keep her ever-watchful eye on the two of them as they conversed over some after-supper wine. Once the other two diners had left Lucille moved to the closest chair next to him, claiming it was easier to fill the silence when they didn't sit at opposite sides of the table. The atmosphere relaxed then and Robin was glad for her suggestion.

"How is your harvest coming along?" Lucille asked, sipping her glass of wine.

"We still have a lot of work to do," he followed the prescribed routes of polite conversation. "But it seems to be coming along nicely."

"If you need an extra assistance while we are here, my men can help," Lucille offered. "I don't want to make my visit too troublesome."

"You could never be troublesome, my lady," Robin replied, raising his glass in toast to her. Lucille raised her eyebrows and laughed. "For having lived in Sherwood so long, many people think your high society skills are out of practice," she teased. "I can safely say they are wrong."

Robin shook his head. "I'm using up all my skills here I'm afraid. I don't think I'm suitable for more polite company."

Lucille frowned slightly, putting down her cup and placing her hands on the table. "Do you mean you're not attending the Queen's celebration?" she asked with the perfect amount of polite interest.

"I'm afraid too many of the distinguished guests are still a little put out with my adventures in Sherwood," Robin said, shrugging. He wasn't lying, and he didn't want to delve in to all the other reasons he had for staying away.

Lucille's lips curved into a rueful smile. "I can't disagree, unfortunately. But I would think the famous Robin Hood could face a bunch of twittering nobles, and not care what they think about him. You've been pardoned, after all."

"I have, which helps a lot, in fact." he reached across the table for a final piece of bread to munch on. "And I don't really care what they think. But that doesn't mean I want to willingly subject myself to their attitude." Robin winced slightly, realizing how his comment might sound to his guest. "Present company excluded of course."

Lucille inclined her head. "Of course." She fingered the stem of her wine glass, scrutinizing him. "You know, there are some who think you did a brave thing and tried to support you in their own way. Or would have if they were able."

A familiar mix of skepticism and bitterness made the bread taste ashy in his mouth. He swallowed. "Convenient to hear, now that my actions have been recognized favorably by King Richard." It came out a little harsher than he meant. He really wasn't ready for polite company and the mincing words and hidden intentions that it entailed.

But Lucille didn't seem offended. She looked critically at him, considering his statement. "Perhaps. Many may have wished they could do as you did, but felt they could not. Maybe they tried to help where they could. Not everyone believes that justice must sometimes be found outside the law, as you do. For without law, what do we become?"

"Free," he answered, thinking of everything that had resulted from law and rules and duty.

A certain wistfulness flickered across Lucille's face. "No one is ever truly free, yet people such as yourself have more chances than most," she said softly. Then she blinked and leaned back in her chair, perfectly composed. "Maybe we should strive to change the rules from within instead of breaking them."

"And if those in charge of changing the rules don't listen?" Robin asked quickly, analyzing her first comment.

Lucille pursed her lips. "There are still ways to change things. It lasts longer and means more that way."

"Until the only way to change the rules _is_ break them," Robin retorted.

Lucille shook her head but she was smiling. "Touche. I probably can't win an argument about the necessity of law with an outlaw, can I?"

"Perhaps another time when it isn't so late."

Lucille raised her glass. "I'll hold you to that." Robin clinked his against hers and they drank.

She licked her lips and set down her now empty cup, waving away Robin's offer of more wine. "I must confess something."

"That never ends well," he said dryly, ignoring the warning twinge in his stomach.

"When my father suggested I stop here on my journey, I was happy to agree. Partly, I was hoping to see the lady Marian again."

Whatever warmth he had been feeling from the wine and company was snuffed out. He suddenly felt heavy, and very tired.

"You've met before?" he asked.

"The Queen assigned me to help her get ready for your ceremony last year. I enjoyed her company and was hoping for the chance to meet her in a less formal setting," Lucille explained, noticing the change in his demeanor but too far along to change the course of discussion now.

Robin drained the wine from his glass then eyed the decanter at the table. "You assumed she would be here."

"I didn't mean to offend," she said gently. "I apologize."

Robin's shoulders fell and he pushed the empty wine glass away from him. "No, no you didn't offend me. I'm afraid I have to disappoint you, she left soon after the ceremony."

"Left?" Lucille questioned the vague answer.

"She went home. It's a bit complicated," he admitted ruefully. "Something about having responsibilities."

Lucille recognized the joke for what it was. She placed her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry Robin. If there is anything I can do?"

Robin nodded his thanks and she patted his arm. Then Lucille rose from the table. "I'm afraid the wine has made me a bit drowsy. I think I must bid you goodnight. Thank you for the meal, it was delicious."

"You should thank Lucy," he said. "She is really the one keeping this place running."

Lucille smiled. "I'll have to do that. Sleep well, Robin."

"Goodnight," he said as she swept out of the dining hall. As soon as she left some of the servants in the house came to clear the table. Robin tried to help but they waved him away. He meandered his way up to his own room after he made the servants promise to take some of the leftovers home to their families if Lucy wasn't going to use them. It would have been better if they let him help. Then he wouldn't have to try to sleep.

He opened the door to his cold, dark room. The window was open and the chilly midnight air seeped into the empty space. Robin kicked off his boots and crawled into bed without lighting a candle. The wine must have had more of an effect than he anticipated because, much to his surprise, he drifted off to sleep.


	3. The Gathering

Marian jerked awake.

Her heart was racing and her neck and chest were damp with sweat. Pain lanced up her fingers and she had to consciously force them to relax and let go of the sheets.

She stared at the roof her tent, just able to see the fabric in the early morning light, and counted to ten slowly. Her breathing eased with each passing second until her heart slowed to its normal rhythm. She silently thanked whoever was listening that she didn't scream during her nightmares. This way no one knew she had them.

Once her pulse finally slowed, Marian knew there was no getting back to sleep. It was early enough that she would be one of the first people awake, but late enough it wouldn't seem too strange for her to be up. With a sigh she pushed herself to her knees and emerged from her tent. The grass was still damp from the morning dew and she couldn't quite avoid getting her knees wet. The air had that cool, sleepy feel to it promised endless possibilities for the day. When she got to her feet Marian took a deep breath and allowed the scent of the forest to wash away the last clinging residue of her dark dreams.

She made her way to the central clearing. Long tables built years ago were nestled into the thick, unruly grass. The tabletops were basically tree trunks halved the long way. The flat side faced up and smaller tree stumps cradled the curved side. Logs and old boxes served as seats for the diners, many of them sporting carvings or initials to mark the presence of previous users. There were three tables spaced equally apart, each able to seat about twenty people. All the seats were empty.

On the opposite end of the clearing were large fire pits, two of which already had fires burning. One had a bulbous black iron cauldron that nearly smothered the flames it rested on. The other had a small pot dangling neatly from a wooden tripod. Marian smiled as the familiar smell of coffee drifted through the air. It was nice to be back among those who appreciated the drink to the same extent she did.

Marian veered towards the coffee pot, greeting the older Ranger who watched over it. "Good morning, Joe." Joey was one of the few remaining retired Rangers. His skin looked like old leather, and his hair was white and thinning. He had trouble moving his hand sometimes, but he still made some of the best coffee in the entire Corps. It was lucky she woke up early.

"Morning to you, miss Marian," he said. Despite his age Joey's voice was clear and strong, always carrying an undercurrent of humor, like he was in on some big joke nobody else could figure out. He got up from the log he was sitting on and handed her one of the community tin mugs. Then he poured her a cup, the dark liquid spilling out of the pot with a happy gurgle. "I hope young Will hasn't made you get up this early today of all days."

"Oh no," she said, taking the offered mug gratefully. "I couldn't sleep. " Then, because she didn't want to think about why, she added, "especially not when you're brewing."

Joey winked shamelessly at her. He knew everyone loved his coffee and had no problem taking the compliment. "What is Gilan cooking for breakfast?" she asked, nodding to the unattended cauldron. Marian closed her eyes as she took the first sip. Some people who knew the Rangers well commented on how coffee was like a religion to them. On mornings like this, they were not far off.

"Porridge," he answered, lifting the lid of the coffee pot to check on its contents. "He's getting some of the fixings now, shouldn't be too long until it's served."

Marian thanked him and picked a spot at one of the tables to sit and wait for breakfast to be ready. She leaned back against the edge of the tabletop, her mug cupped in both hands. Morning birds cooed in the trees and every once in a while she could hear the soft crackle of the morning campfire. Here, in this hidden grove, the pale morning just beginning, her chest felt a little lighter. Marian smiled as she watched the trees and the clearing aimlessly, noting as a few more Rangers made their way to the coffee. Their quite murmuring filled the glade up nicely. It was so normal, so home-like.

She watched Gilan come back, his arms full with covered bowls. When he took the lid off of the cauldron, a billow of steam swirled about his head. He began dumping the bowls into the mix and a breath of a moment later the rich, warm smell of porridge drifted across the air. Marian realized how empty her belly felt and her mouth started to water.

By this point small crowd had gathered near the cauldron, chatting but clearly waiting for their chance at some breakfast. She got up and moved closer, though she was careful not to intrude, so she wouldn't be the last in line to eat. A few of the Rangers greeted her with a nod and a smile but none invited her to join their small social circle. That was fine, she preferred not to talk much in the morning anyway.

Gilan looked up slowly from his stirring. "You lot look like a bunch of pups waiting at the table for scraps."

The Rangers shamelessly stared at him until he sighed, loudly so they would apparently know he wasn't giving in willingly. "All right, might as well get started."

It didn't take long from there for the group to form a neat line for food. By this time a few more Rangers had appeared but Marian was already making her way back to the table with a full bowl, after getting a top-off on the sly from Joey. She picked a spot farther in the back and carefully set her breakfast down, eyeing the thick, warm cereal with generous helpings of nuts and colorful berries.

Marian just finished stirring a generous dose of honey into her bowl of when someone plopped down on the bench across from her. He dropped his own bowl and mug onto the table with a clatter, flashing a grin at her as he snagged the honey jar and poured some onto his breakfast.

"Morning," the boy said. He had blonde curly hair, cut close to his head. He was tall and broad shouldered. Most people wouldn't peg him as the Ranger-type because of his build but he could move unseen and unheard with the best of them. Blue eyes smiled at her from under strong, fair brows.

She had the spoon halfway up to her mouth when he sat down. Now she put it back in the bowl and tilted her head. "Owen."

The fellow apprentice raised his eyebrows at her, his mouth too full to answer. He was a year older, and at the end of this Gathering would receive his silver oakleaf if he passed his examination. Everyone knew he would do so with flying colors.

Marian sighed. "What are you doing?"

Owen pointed at his bowl with his spoon. "Eating," he mumbled through his food.

"You'll get in trouble," she said.

An iron stubbornness flashed across his features. Then he shrugged. "I don't understand what Antony has against you," he said. "Besides, it's not like he can keep me from graduating, even if he is my mentor. I just need to pass the tests."

"Owen-"

He pushed her bowl closer to her. "You're food is getting cold."

She scowled but there was nothing she could say to make him leave. The apprentices were on their own this morning anyway, and Owen was right. Cold porridge didn't taste nearly as good as it did when it was hot.

She started eating her food and Owen grinned in triumph. Marian kicked him under the table, unable to stop herself from smiling. At the first gathering Owen had decided they were going to be friends, despite his mentor's disapproval. They only ever saw each other at the Gatherings but at least she knew there would always be a friendly face here.

He was catching her up on what he had done the past year when his story trailed off into silence. She frowned, and followed his line of sight down the table where a young apprentice sat by himself, hunched over his bowl. Every once in a while he glanced up at the three other apprentices who were grouped together at another table. It was a viewpoint she understood well, before Owen decided to talk to her.

She recognized him, the young boy who had delivered Halt's message to her the first day they arrived. Marian glanced at Owen and made a decision. "Hey, Christopher," she called down the table. He looked up, startled, glancing around a bit before figuring out she was the one who had called his name. "Why don't you come sit with us?" Owen raised his eyebrows at her and Marian shrugged. She didn't want anyone feeling the way she did before Owen decided to be friends with her.

"Um," Christopher hedged, his eyes darting to the far table. Marian kicked Owen lightly under the table. The invitation might go over better if it didn't come from The Girl. She didn't really know how the other apprentices saw her but if associating with her made his situation worse, maybe Owen's presence could mitigate that.

"Come on," Owen waved him over, picking up her message without hesitation. "You should get some honey before Marain here uses it all in her coffee."

Christopher hesitated a moment more, then snatched up his bowl and moved down next to Marian. She shifted slightly so their spacing would be more even.

"You put honey in your coffee?" he asked. Marian was used to the skepticism on his face, as were Will, Halt, and Gilan, the Rangers best known for using this particular sweetener.

"I don't use that much," she said, glaring at Owen who laughed. "Besides, have you tried it?" she asked. "It's good!"

Christopher shook his head. "No thanks," he wrinkled his nose. "Marek always says you shouldn't fix something that isn't broken."

Owen laughed, giving Christopher a high-five. The boy smiled shyly. "That's my man! See, Marian, Halt and Will have brainwashed you."

The young boy looked stunned, not used to hearing someone disparage the name of some of Araluen's most famous Rangers.

"Or you're just unenlightened," she pointed out. "Here," she placed her mug in front of Christopher. "At least try it before you dismiss it."

He looked between the two of them and Owen watched expectantly. Then he grabbed Marian's mug with some suspicion, tipping it slowly back as if he was trying to taste as little as possible. But when he managed to get a sip he looked at her in surprise. "It's good."

"Ha!" Marian said, clapping Christopher on the back while Owen groaned. Then she passed him the honey jar. "Sometimes you just have to give it a shot. And thank you for helping me prove him wrong," she said nodding her head in Owen's direction.

Own looked mournfully at Christopher. "We've lost another one."

The first year shifted uncomfortably until Owen smiled. "Go on, enjoy. At this rate she'll convert the entire Corps." Christopher poured some honey into his own coffee, which was hotter than Marian's at this point.

"You'll come around one of these days," Marin promised. Owen just shook his head.

"Never. You won't break me."

Marian froze. _I will break you_. She shivered at the words, struggling to push back the memory of the dank, dark prison. The last bits of her breakfast didn't seem so appetizing and she pushed the bowl away. What she had eaten sat in her stomach like a cold stone.

"Marian?" Owen asked, concerned at the sudden pallor of her skin.

She shook her head. Christopher looked wary but she was saved from having to explain by Gilan. The Commandant knocked the breakfast ladle against the nearly empty cauldron. The hollow sound rang across the glade, calling the attention of all Rangers and apprentices.

"Good morning to everyone. I hope you enjoyed breakfast, but if you didn't I don't want to hear it," Gilan announced, eliciting a few chuckles. "Those who still need to take their first year assessments, gather at the other end of the clearing next to Will Treaty. He will be supervising you this year."

Christopher stiffened and Marian forced a smile to her face. If she pretended hard enough everything would be fine. "You'll do great," she told him. "He's not as scary as he seems and if you have questions you can ask me."

He nodded and then scrambled out of his seat, carrying his now-empty utensils to a large tub next to another tub full of water before assembling with the other first-years.

"For the rest of us, there is a chart posted for work shifts," Gilan said, after Will led the four first-years away. "Next to it is a list of activities and seminars available for anyone who wishes to participate. If there are any questions, requests, or suggestions, come find me. Otherwise, enjoy the day."

With that the crowd of Rangers started to disperse, most of them gravitating toward the chore chart. She and Owen waited until a space opened up in front of them. When she saw where her name was, and whose it was next to, her shoulders slumped. "I've got this morning's dishes."

"At least that means you're done quicker," Owen said, glancing down the chart. "I'm doing them tonight. Who knows when I'll get to sleep?"

She glanced over her shoulder at the ever growing mountain of dishes. Her washing partner was Bryan, one of the other apprentices in the same year as her. It was safe to say they didn't get along. She had heard talk when she came back, not from Will, that Bryan had spread awful rumors about her during the war. Will found out, but Bryan continued to see his punishment as her fault. Just another crime in a long list that he seemed to cling to with fervor.

"Well, if I manage not to get in trouble, want to meet at the archery seminar?" she asked. Owen's brow creased in confusion and then looked back himself. He winced when he noticed the reason for her comment.

"Do you want to switch?" he asked.

She shook her head, steeling herself for a confrontation. "I can't keep avoiding him."

"You know what he's been saying about you," Owen said, glaring at the other apprentice over her shoulder. "He's one of the most vocal, there is nothing wrong with avoiding him."

Marian simply swatted Owen's shoulder. "Tell Comet hello from Sky and me." Then she pushed herself through the dispersing crowd and Owen lost sight of her. When Marian reached the tubs, she started dunking the dishes in the water without comment, determined to ignore Bryan's presence.

"I'm surprised to see you didn't ditch," he sneered as she arrived. "Isn't that kind of your thing now?" Marian continued to wash the dishes, keeping her face perfectly still. How this boy was able to become a Ranger's apprentice she could never figure out, and probably never will.

Marian dunked a dish into the tub, the water splashing up onto her rolled sleeves. She didn't say a word.

"What's hard work like?" he asked her, standing next to his pile of dirty dishes that wasn't getting any smaller.

Marian scrubbed hard at one of the bowls. _Don't do it, don't do it,_ she thought to herself. But her mouth wasn't listening. "Why don't you find out and do some yourself?"

Bryan smirked. "I think I've had my fair share. You know, during the war that you were hiding from?"

"I wasn't hiding," she protested. It was weak, she knew, and he wasn't going to back down just from that statement.

"Well you certainly weren't fighting," he said.

She was so close to throwing a bowl at him, but then she would have to clean it again. Instead, she placed the clean ones on a bench next to her and reached for another dish. "I could try to explain what I was doing to you," she said, biting back on her temper. "But I won't be able to understand it for you, and since I can't do that it's not worth the effort. So why don't you do what you're so good at and start washing the rest of those dishes."

Bryan's face turned blotchy and she felt a flash of hot triumph. What she did wasn't pretty but right now it felt good.

He glared at her a few moments more, opening and closing his mouth but no wound came out. "It's okay," Marian said, lacing her words with mock sympathy. Water dripped down her hands back into the tub, her bowl forgotten. "I know words are hard, don't try to talk." Her words were cruel and angry but that was the only thing she seemed to feel at full capacity right now.

He made a strangled growl and then gathered his pile of dirty dishes in his arms. She eyed him and her body tensed. Then he threw the whole mess into the tub of water, close enough to her that the dirty liquid sloshed up and soaked the front of her shirt. Marian jumped back with a disgusted shout, her shirt clinging uncomfortably to her stomach. The wind chilled her skin, giving her goosebumps.

"What the hell?" she shouted at him, dropping the bowl and trying to wring the excess water from her shirt.

"I just remembered, I have something better to do," Bryan said. "Since I actually fought in the war, it's only fair you do my share of the dishes." He gave her a lazy salute, daring her to say something.

She didn't. The brief exchange gave her a burst of energy, but the cold wet fabric on her skin just brought back the crushing weight of the constant battle to prove herself. Just like that her energy to fight was gone. He scoffed. "That's what I thought."

Marian watched as Bryan walked away, feeling more miserable than usual. He turned and called out, "see you on the range!" She went back to the dishes, mechanically dunking, scrubbing, and then placing them next to her for another Ranger to pick up for later. She could feel the pricking behind her eyes and gritted her teeth to stop herself from crying. Bryan's taunts never used to bother her as much and the excitement she usually felt for the Gathering didn't quite push away the bitter taste in her mouth. She breathed hard and shoved her thoughts away. Marian knew she couldn't avoid him completely, but all she had to do was ignore him for a few days. She was going to enjoy herself and everything would be fine. It had to be.

RMRMRMRMRMR

About half an hour later than she should have, Marian walked into the archery range, eyeing which targets she wanted to use. Some Rangers were already in place, each spot presenting multiple targets for the archers to shoot at. She could hear the soft staccato of a multitude of arrows hitting their marks. The targets themselves were of varying sizes, distances, and heights, a difficult range for even the most experienced of archers. Right now she was looking for a challenge, something to shake off the bad feeling from this morning.

"Marian!" she looked down the line and saw Owen waving. He had claimed one of the slots for the both of them to use, a good idea since the range was already filling up and they wanted to allow as many people to use it at one time as possible. Her mood darkened when she noticed Bryan had also claimed one of the prime spots, something he could do since he had left his cleaning shift early, but she forced herself to walk past him and put the annoyance out of her mind.

"How did it go this morning?" Owen asked in a low voice when she got there, glancing over at Bryan. "Was he civil at least?"

Marian gave him a pointed look and he sighed. "Right. Sorry I asked. What happened?"

She picked up one of the practice quivers and started stringing her own bow. "Just insults. Nothing I haven't dealt with before." Her shirt was only slightly damp in some spots now but uncomfortably so. She wasn't going to tell Owen that though. "You want to go first?" she said.

Owen stepped up to the marker, blocking out the motion and sounds of their companions. He loosed three arrows in quick succession, each at different targets. He lowered his bow and Marian squinted at the far-off targets. "Your middle one looks a little above center."

He shot her a look as he walked down the lane to retrieve his arrows. When he returned, he waved the three under her nose. "The middle one was to the _right_ of center."

Marian laughed and the weight on her chest eased a little. "Oh man, you sure showed me." She got up to take his place and Owen stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Are you going to talk to Will about it?" he asked, as she sighted and released. Marian frowned as she noticed one of her own arrows landing below the exact center. For anyone else, both of their shots would have qualified them as experts. A regular archer may have even bragged about her shots to her friends. But for Rangers, perfection wasn't just sought after—it was expected. It was clear they were still apprentices.

"I don't need to bother him," she said, turning around. "It's nothing I haven't dealt with before. Besides, what can he do?"

Owen opened his mouth to reply when he heard a light footfall behind them. Eric, the Ranger supervising the open range session, alerted them to his presence. He had been sitting against a tree, hood up as if he was sleeping, but no one was fooled. He must have felt the need to lend some aid.

"You two are thinking of it in steps," he said, his voice a soothing tenor. "You're letting the movement take over your sighting. That's why you have a slight deviation from the center. May I?" Marian stepped out of the way. She and Owen watched Eric with wide eyes, trying to memorize his every move. Eric stood still for a moment and then in one movement drew, sighted, and released. He moved like water, smooth and fluid. The arrow landed perfectly in the center of his target. "Keep the target in your mind's eye but your actions all one motion. Everything is done almost simultaneously."

Marian nodded and took a step forward to try again, but a voice stopped her mid-motion. "Don't bother, Eric," Bryan called from the down the row. "You're wasting your time."

Eric's expression twitched but he schooled himself. "We all have something to learn," he said, his voice a few degrees colder than normal. Bryan smirked and then took his own turn. Marian felt a flash of envy at his skill. He was at one of the most difficult targets on the range and made a perfect shot. "I might have to respectfully disagree," he said, triumphant. Other Rangers and apprentices eyed the shot approvingly. A few clapped him on the back.

"He's never been respectful in his life," Owen growled under his breath. Marian didn't answer. She was staring at the target, remembering a trick Robin had shown her once back in Sherwood. He said he had used it to win a tournament, in disguise. She accused him of just showing off, but he claimed you could do both. It would be difficult, but if she could pull it off now . . .

She marched towards Bryan's post, ignoring Owen's question behind her. The other Rangers let her through, their curiosity thickening the air. Marian stepped up to the marker, forcing Bryan back without even looking at him. He scoffed, but got out of her way. Marian examined his arrow, her vision narrowing. She took a deep breath and, remembering Eric's advice, let her arrow fly.

A sharp snap broke the clearing's silence. Her arrow had split Bryan's right down the middle. Marian grinned at Owen's delighted whoop, which sparked a wave of congratulatory cheers. Eric placed his hand on her shoulder, and murmured, "nicely done. Now what do we do?"

"Practice and practice some more," she intoned. The older Ranger chuckled. Marian snuck a glance at Bryan over Eric's shoulder. The crowd had pushed him farther to the edge and no one was paying attention to him anymore. When he saw her looking he turned and stormed out of the clearing.

"Wow!" Owen said, pushing through the milling crowd. He slung an arm around her neck in mock roughness. "From now on, wait to practice until I'm somewhere else so I don't feel so ashamed of my skill. Though I can't say I'm unhappy you put him in his place."

She never heard him. The moment his arm touched her neck, Marian was no longer at the archery range. She was back on the scaffold at Nottingham. The people in front of her weren't her friends; they were the crowd roaring in front of her as she dangled like a puppet on a string. The rope was tightening around her neck, her feet were kicking the empty air. She couldn't breathe. _Oh God_ , she couldn't breathe! She kicked out desperately, and yanked at the thing around her neck. If she didn't get it off she was going to die.

"Marian! Stop!" Eric barked.

The pressure was gone. Sweet, cool air rushed into her lungs. As she took deep breaths her heart started to settle. It was only then that she realized someone was gripping her arms tight enough to bruise. She heard birds chirping and leaves rustling together in the wind. _Not Nottingham_ , she reminded herself. _I'm safe._

Slowly, Eric eased his grip on her arms and then moved to her side. "Owen, are you all right?"

_Owen?_ Confused, Marian looked around. Owen was kneeling on the ground next to her, his head bent and one arm holding his stomach. Blood dripped from his nose and disappeared into the thick grass.

"I'm fine," he said. His voice was thick, like he had a cold. He tried to wipe the blood off of his face, but winced when he brushed his nose.

"Owen?" Marian asked, crouching in front of him. He looked up and guilt flooded her body. His nose was crooked and all the blood made his face a ghastly mess. The skin under his eyes was already starting to purple.

She went to put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched instinctively. Marian snatched her hand back and stood up, backing away. When he realized what he did his eyes widened and he hurried to reassure her. "Marian, it's all right."

"No, it isn't," she said. All the other Rangers were staring at her and she shook her head, wishing she could disappear. Her little victory turned to ash in her mouth. She didn't understand what was wrong with her. "I'm so sorry, I don't know-I don't know what happened." If something like that happened again, who else was she going to hurt?

Marian looked at Ranger Eric. She couldn't tell what he was thinking but there is no way it was good. "I'll report myself to Gilan, and I'll take Owen's chore shift tonight."

Before Eric could tell her that was unnecessary, that he understood what happened and she needed to talk about it, Marian whirled and pushed through the circled Rangers, barely restraining herself from flat-out running away.

Eric helped Owen to his feet, shooing the others back to their targets. His session was over for the day, but they were free to continue practicing. "I'm going to set this," he told the boy. Owen nodded and curled his fists. Eric reached up and jerked the cartilage back into place. Owen grunted in pain and his watered. After a few minutes, though, he was able to breathe easier.

"Better?" Eric asked.

Owen nodded but he was looking in the direction Marian had gone. "What happened?"

Eric was already thinking about what he needed to say to Will. "You received Gilan's report about her whereabouts during Jeren's rebellion?" Owen nodded again, his brows furrowed. "Whatever she was doing, wherever she really was, it seems she suffered just as much as the rest of us."


	4. Tipping Points

"Good afternoon everyone," Gilan said to the assembled apprentices. He clasped his hands behind his back, grinning. "I presume you're all ready for our annual competition of Capture the Flag?"

Heads nodded. Marain stood in the middle of the crowd, for once comfortable with her short stature among everyone else. It was easier to avoid obvious notice that way. Gilan continued to speak and Marian felt the crowd shift around her. Owen leaned closer to Marian and whispered "Hey."

Marian winced but kept her eyes on Gilan. "Hey."

"I heard about what happened with Bryan before the archery range."

This startled her. She expected him to say something about hitting him, not this. "You did?"

"Marian I know this isn't the first time he's bothered you," he said. "Have you told Will?"

She snorted. "He's an idiot, and something I've had to deal with for a long time. Will doesn't need to be bothered."

She could almost feel Owen's disapproval but she continued to stare straight ahead. "But the point is you shouldn't have to deal with it," he said. "You're as much of a Ranger as anyone else here. If you don't say something, I will."

"No," she hissed, whipping her head around to look at him, finally. "It's my issue. I'll deal with it how I choose." Owen frowned and she touched his wrist briefly. "Really. If I decide I need help, I'll ask."

Owen thought for a moment and then nodded. She searched his face, eyeing the bruises. Marian tapped her nose. "Sorry about that," she said softly..

He shrugged. "I know you didn't mean it. But if you ever want to talk about what's been bothering you, I'm here." Then he grinned. "I think it makes me look more dashing anyway, to be honest." He struck a ridiculous pose, pointing his nose high into the air. "What do you think?"

Marian was about to respond when she noticed Gilan had stopped talking and was staring at them. Others had started to turn their heads. Both of them quickly straightened their shoulders, appearing as innocent as possible. Gilan waited a moment more to make his point, making Marian squirm a little, then continued.

"Remember. One pairing will receive a flag to post wherever they choose. Then they have to defend it against the other pairings of apprentices. This is the time for you all to show off every skill you have. We will have monitors throughout the forest. You won't see them," Gilan's smile turned a bit more competitive. "But they'll see you, and take notes on your performance. Our chief monitor this year will be Ranger Antony."

Owen's mentor stepped up beside Gilan and Marian closed her eyes, wishing Gilan might have changed his mind between now and the other night. Marian peeked at Owen and noticed the look of worry on his face. Antony wasn't going to make this easy.

"I don't think we are going to be partners," Owen said. They were hoping they would be paired together, but Marian knew with Antony picking the groups, there was no way that would happen.

"Good morning everyone," Antony announced, steadfastly avoiding looking in Marian's direction. "First, a quick rundown of the rules. You all will be given special blunted arrows, dyed red. If you manage to get hit in a "kill zone" you're out of the game. However, you will retain your real saxe and throwing knife. So use them responsibly. If you are cut, you are out of the game. You must be honest, if the Rangers discover an illegal player, they will be punished. Those attacking the flag, do so as quickly as possible. You don't know how long we will give you to accomplish your task. If someone takes the flag, the game is over and they are the winner. If no one takes it within the time I decide, the defenders are the winner. Clear?"

Heads nodded once again. "Good," Antony said. "Now, for partners." He pulled a piece of parchment out from under his cloak and started reading the names listed. "Owen is with Christopher." She saw Owen flash a grin towards the nervous first-year. "Jasper with David. Marian," he glanced up at her. "With Bryan."

"What?" Marian snapped her head up.

"You can't be serious!" Bryan cried at the same time.

Their voices cracked through the silence of the clearing. Everyone knew about the animosity between them. The only other person who didn't seem shocked by the pairing was Gilan. He stood behind Owen's mentor, his face inscrutable.

"Is there a problem?" Antony asked slowly. He absolutely knew there was a problem. He didn't care.

Marian crossed her arms and glared at Bryan. Bryan narrowed his eyes at her. "I will not be partners with her."

"You have no other option," Antony said. Marian looked at Gilan in a panic but she realized there would be no help from him. "Either you two work together or you are disqualified."

Marian clenched her jaw. There was no way that either Antony or Bryan were going to make her back down. She had gotten this far. "There is no problem," she said.

She could see Owen's frown out of the corner of her eye. But she kept her focus on Bryan, challenging him to quit. But he wouldn't take the challenge. "Fine," he ground out. "No problem with me either."

"Good," Antony said. Marian swore she saw a satisfied smile, but it was too fleeting to be sure. He continued down the list of names, pairing up the apprentices. Marian wasn't paying attention. Instead she was figuring out how she was going to survive the next few hours.

*RMRMRMRMR*

Marian was fuming. She followed after the mottled cloak in front of her, itching to head off on her own. But she knew she couldn't do that. The point of the game was to work with your partner, and one of the Rangers would spot her at some point. "Bryan," she tried again. There was no attempt to tone down the annoyance in her voice. "There is nothing to suggest they came this way. Even if they did, we should cross upstream."

"They would be expecting that," Bryan said, his voice dripping with derision. "You know the best defensible place for the flag is on the other side of the river."

She wanted to throw something at him. They had been trekking through the forest ever since Antony had dismissed them. The pair with the flag disappeared soon after the other Rangers did. The rest of the apprentices scattered as soon as the requisite waiting time was up. Of course Bryan had refused to take any of her suggestions.

Marian could hear the dull roar of the nearby river, and the falls it ran into. Bryan, much to her irritation, moved silently through the trees, swatting at the bugs that swarmed by them. Though she thought he snapped a few branches back at her just a bit too hard.

The vegetation was thick and brambles scraped at her legs. It was a relief when she finally emerged onto the riverbank, seconds behind Bryan. The forest rose above them and the open bank was covered in sweeping grasses. The swollen river rushed by, carrying with it debris from the inner parts of the forest and carving out the bank so the grass hung over the edge.

"I told you," she said, drawing up next to him and staring at the water. "It's too dangerous to cross this far down."

Bryan scoffed. "Scared?"

"I'm _smart_ ," she snapped.

"And I'm getting across the river." Bryan took off his cloak and bundled it up with his weapons. "If we come up from behind them, they won't expect it and we can take the flag faster than anyone ever has."

Marian looked at him helplessly. She could swim, of course, but the river was bloated with summer rains. The current was fast and strong and the river took what it wanted.

Bryan chewed his lip, looking at the water and trying to gauge where it would be best to cross. Marian groaned. "We need rope."

He looked at her and for a moment she thought he was going to jump in right then and there. "Why?"

"It will give us something steady to anchor ourselves as we go," she explained, digging through her supply pack that all the apprentices received at the start of the game. She pulled out a coil and then extended her hand towards him. "Give me yours."

He hesitated a moment and then dug into his own pack, slapping the coil of rope into her hands. Marian could tell he didn't like listening to her but she couldn't care less. If he refused to take her advice to cross somewhere else, she was going to do the best she could to get them across this river alive.

Marian knotted the two ropes together, pulling on them hard to make sure the knot would hold. Then she threaded an arrow through the end of one rope and handed the other end of the rope to Bryan. "Hold this," she said. Marian strung her bow and fitted the arrow to the string, rope dangling like a tail. She aimed for a tree close to the edge of the opposite bank.

The arrow flew through the air, the rope following like ribbon. She smiled with simple satisfaction as the arrowhead lodged into the tree. "Now, tie off the end," she told Bryan. He gave her a withering look, but followed her order without saying anything. He pulled the rope taut, water dripping from the middle that had landed in the river.. Then he knotted it and yanked on the end. "Satisfied?"

Marian didn't answer. Instead she took her weapons off and then wrapped them up in her cloak. "I'll go across first."

Bryan snorted and marched forward into the river without taking any precautions with his cloak and weapons. Marian growled, exasperated, but didn't stop him. Despite her dislike of him, her body tensed as Bryan inched further out into the rushing water. His cloak streamed out behind him, the current tugging at it. Bryan leaned against the force of the river, clinging to the rope for balance. Her simple handhold seemed too flimsy the closer he got to the middle of the river. At one point, Bryan stumbled and the rope bowed as he yanked on it to keep his footing. Marian's heart leapt into her throat and only settled when he climbed out on the other side of the riverbank, sopping wet.

Bryan raised his arm and gave her a thumbs up, signaling that she could cross. Marian picked up her bundle and balanced it on her left shoulder, reaching out for the rope with her right. As soon as she stepped off the bank and into the water, her boots filled with water. Marian grimaced as she took another step. If there was one thing she _hated_ it was walking around with wet socks, water squelching between her toes. But that was something Ranger's had to deal with, so she suffered through it. Most of the time.

The deeper she got the stronger the current pulled at her body. She tried to feel the way ahead with her foot, searching for safe places to step. The river was moving too quickly and was filled with too much dirt to see clearly. Her clothing clung to her body and the spray misted her skin.

She was halfway across by this point and the water was up to her waist but she paused, breathing slowly in and out. As she stood there with her eyes closed she suddenly felt water lapping at her chest. Her eyes flew open and she looked upstream. The river was rising. Panic urged her to flee but she knew the footing was uneven. Her left shoulder ached from holding her supplies above the water but she kept her eyes focused on the other side.

The water continued to rise and she knew she had to hurry. Bryan was looking upstream but she yelled to get his attention. "Take this!" she said, tossing her bundle towards him. He reached out over the bank, snatching her cloak and supplies from the air. She wanted both hands free, but it didn't much matter when she took her next step.

The rock beneath her foot slid out from under her, twisting her ankle. Marian fell with a gasp, the water closing above her head. Her lungs filled and she struggled to find the surface as the current took a hold of her. The only thing keeping her oriented was the rope in her hand. She pulled on it, forcing her head back above water. When she broke the surface she coughed up the river water, snatching a few breaths of precious air. Then the rope snapped.

The current pulled her under again, throwing her against the rocks in the riverbed. A surge in the water slammed her against a boulder and pain burst behind her right temple. The rope burned her hand as it slipped through her fingers until she managed to stop her slide. Water was in her nose, her eyes, and her mouth. She prayed the arrow stayed lodged in the tree long enough for Bryan to help her get out of this.

As the thought crossed her mind, Marian felt the rope in her hands tremble. Then it went slack. The moment it did she was swept out into the strongest part of the current. Water assaulted her as she tried to swim out of the river's pull. She could hear nothing except the roar of the river. She was choking on water, unable to set her feet or swim away. The rocks pummeled her body as she fought the current.

Her foot found a rock that didn't slip when she pushed on it. She forced her head above the water and the sun blinded her. She sputtered and coughed up the water caught in her lungs, desperately needing her vision to focus. As the bank flew by on either side, she looked for something—anything—she could use to get to safety before the river took her over the falls.

Downstream to her right she saw a large shadow. From what she could tell it was stationary and her only hope to stop her tumultuous drowning. Marian twisted her body and forced herself onto her stomach by sheer force of will, striking out across the water. The more she swam the more it felt like she wasn't getting anywhere. The bank moved by in a blur and she couldn't mark any progress towards shore.

Marian kept trying to swim, praying she hadn't missed her mark. She felt a sinking feeling deep in her stomach the longer she stayed in the water. Her muscles burned and her chest hurt from swallowing water and trying not to drown at the same time. Marian was tiring and she wasn't sure how long she was going to stay afloat.

Her body slammed into something solid, and pain flared in her side as a sharp object ripped through her shirt and into her skin. On instinct she clung to whatever she had rammed into, the water cascading over her. Branches scraped her hands and tangled in her hair as Marian dragged herself along the obstruction. She could feel the branch swaying in the water, bending against the current. But it was stronger than her rope.

_Stupid!_ She yelled at herself, heaving her body closer to the shore. When the water was shallow enough and she could stand without being swept away she practically ran to shore. Marian fell to her knees, retching up water and bile. It got in the way of her breathing and she just coughed more. Water dripped down her face and mixed with the blood on her arms and hands. Her clothes were sopping wet and she was starting to get goose bumps from the chill. _What the hell were you thinking?_

Marian finally caught a few breaths and her heart rate started to slow. It took a bit longer for the rest of her body to realize that she was safely on land and not drowning anymore. She flopped onto her back, letting the pain and panic wash through her until it faded into exhaustion. Then she just lay there, reminding herself that she was alive.

Something rustled behind her and she was on her feet in an instant. Marian crouched, balanced on the balls of her feet. She had no weapons and she was soaked from head to toe and back again.

A figure stepped out of the trees, and she saw the Ranger cloak first. She straightened and clenched her fists. She was going to give Bryan a piece of her mind. "What in the hell were you thinking?" she yelled. Then her face drained of all color when she saw who it was.

The Ranger cloak had thrown her, and in all honesty she hadn't expected him to show up. "Ranger Antony," she said. "I thought you were someone else."

"I know who you thought I was," he answered. His voice was crisp and monotone, certainly no invitation for her to respond.

Marian glanced upriver. "I should find my partner. Unless I'm disqualified?" She let a hint of challenge trickle into her question. She could think of no other reason Antony might be there. The monitors weren't supposed to interfere unless they were kicking an apprentice out of the game.

"The game is over," he said. "Owen and Christopher won." He tilted his head, assessing her dripping clothes. "We're calling the apprentices in."

"Oh," Marian said quietly. Disappointment settled in her stomach like a cold rock. Antony looked at her a moment longer. She expected him to comment or make a sarcastic remark. Instead, he simply turned and headed back upriver to the bridge and the campsite. Marian followed silently, grimacing when her feet squelched in her boots. Pain twinged in her side while she walked, and she pressed her palm to the wound to stop the bleeding. While they walked she reviewed what had happened in her mind, trying to figure out what went wrong.

Marian thought the knot must have slipped, but what really had her puzzled was the arrow on the other side. She had been certain it was anchored. In fact, it wasn't the knot she was worried about at the time.

She frowned, replaying the scene in her head. It was hard to remember past the panic and the onslaught of water. She could see Bryan standing on the bank, when the rope snapped. Marian slowed, coming to halt without thinking as she thought about it again. In her mind she saw the swirl of his cloak as he turned around…before the arrow snapped.

"Keep up," Antony snapped at her. Marian looked up but he was already moving farther ahead. She felt sick as the realization sunk in. Bryan had left her in the river while she was caught in the current. He had left her to die.

*RMRMRMRMRMR*

Robin gasped for breath, kicking at the sheets that seemed to be strangling him. He looked wildly around the room, the air pressing down on him. It was darker than usual and the walls were closing in. He ran to the window, now closed, and slammed the shutters open. Sweet, cool air rushed into his lungs clearing out the stuffy air of the room. Robin shuddered and closed his eyes, leaning his arms on the windowsill and resting his head as he gulped in the air. He told himself that he was fine, there was a way out of the room if he needed it. It took a few times to really believe it.

_The shutters must have blown shut in the breeze_ , Robin thought. He may have to take them off altogether. It happened too many nights, where they closed without him knowing and once the room started to warm up the panic set it. The sleepless nights were getting too much.

Robin lifted his head from the windowsill as the faint sound of hoof beats reached his ears. His heart settled as his focus shifted from his nightmare to the rider coming nearer by the second, racing towards Locksley. Robin squinted, trying to make out who the figure might be, but the visitor was obscured by a large, flapping cloak. Not even the color of the cloak or the horse was discernible in the grey darkness of the early morning.

Robin pushed away from the window. He grabbed his boots and moved toward the door, hopping on one foot as he attempted to put his boots on while walking. He managed to do so without tripping. Then he snuck down the stairs, weaving to avoid the creaky spots in the wood. He didn't want to wake his guest, especially without knowing the reason for the stranger's visit.

The manor was dark, the coals gone cold in the fireplaces. It was the rare time of night when almost everyone was asleep. It was so quiet his breathing sounded loud in his ears, but no one interrupted his journey through the house.

Robin exited through a side door in the kitchen and positioned himself so he could see the visitor without being spotted himself. By the time the rider arrived in the yard Robin's hands were a bit chilled from waiting outside. The horse's hind legs skidded into the dirt as the rider pulled back on its reins. Its withers were stained from sweat and Robin could hear the horse's heavy breathing. Robin's fingers tightened around the handle of a dagger.

"Good evening," he said, emerging from the niche in the wall. "What brings a rider at his hour?"

The figure on the horse pushed back the hood of his cloak and dismounted, without a hint of surprise at his presence. Robin frowned. "Michael?" What was the king's seneschal doing in Locksley?  
"Good evening Lord Robin," Michael bowed, still holding the reins of his horse. "I was wondering if I might have a word."

"Is something wrong?" Robin asked. His stomach flipped as he thought about the possible reasons Michael could have for coming this far this late at night.

"Nothing, as of yet." The seneschal reassured him. "But it is a matter of some urgency. Perhaps we could move the conversation inside? Though I do not wish to awaken anyone."

A young boy came running up the lane from the stables. When he reached the two men he looked at them bleary-eyed, unable to stop a yawn from escaping him.

"Can I take your horse, sir?" he asked, holding out his hand. Michael nodded solemnly and then handed the reins to him.

"Give him a rubdown, water, and some oats if you have it. He's worked hard today."

The boy bobbed his head in what was supposed to be a bow before leading the animal away. The horse's head drooped and he followed the boy complacently, his hooves thudding dully in the dirt.

"Come on," Robin said. "We can talk in my study. I'll have some tea made. Are you hungry?" he asked, entering the house back through the kitchen door.

"Please do not go to extra trouble," he said. "I shall rest here and then depart in the morning again, once Samson has recovered from the ride."

Robin stopped short when he saw Lucy up and moving around in the kitchen. A small fire was stoked and the kettle was already starting to boil. He never stopped being amazed at how quickly she could prepare for the unexpected.

The woman turned around. Her mouth tightened when she saw who his guest was but she simply waved the two of them through. "Go on my lords. I'll bring up the tea when its ready."

"Thank you Lucy," Robin smiled at her, attempting to ease the tension he noticed in her shoulders. But Lucy simply nodded once and then turned around, getting an early start on the coming day's meals.

When they reached the study, Robin circled the room lighting candles but left the small fireplace cold. It was a cozy room, with bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling and a lush, dark blue carpet that covered the stone floor. A desk took up one wall in front of a large window, holding of the few glass panes in the entire manor. A couch pressed against the wall adjacent to the desk. Robin could vaguely remember when this used to be his father's study, and every once in a while he would catch wisps of the phantom smell of pipe smoke and parchment.

"All right," he said, gesturing to the empty chair behind the desk for Michael to take. "What brings you to Locksley, and so late at night?"

Michael unbuttoned his cloak and draped it across the back of the chair. He sat straight-backed, his fingers clasped loosely together in his lap. "The King has not received a letter confirming that you are coming to the celebration."

Robin stopped halfway to sitting on the couch, staring at Michael incredulously. "That's why you rode all the way in the middle of the night? Because I'm not coming to a party?"

Michael's face looked grave and Robin finished his journey to the couch. Then he leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, studying his visitor. "Michael, what is going on?"

"Robin," Michael glanced around the room and then leaned forward as well, lowering his voice. "The King must speak with you as soon as possible. But he cannot come here without raising suspicion. The future of England is at stake, and you are the only he can trust with this."

The lethargy he had been feeling the past few months cleared away in an instant. His mind started ticking away at the possibilities. "What does he want to speak about?" Robin asked. "What do I need to do?"

Michael opened his mouth to speak but then his eyes darted towards the door. He looked like a rabbit noticing a fox circling it's warren. Robin followed the path of his gaze and then frowned as he noticed a flicker of shadow beneath the crack in the door.

Robin circled his hand, indicating Michael should keep talking. The older man nodded. "It's quite simple really," he said, his voice no different than it had been moments earlier. Robin stood and glided across the room, stepping with the balls of his feet first to avoid making any noise. "He admired your craftsmanship of your bow and thinks it can improve the quality of our army if you agree to aid in the design and execution of wielding such a weapon. You see..."

Robin yanked the door open, expecting to have a figure tumbling into the room or at least staring up at him in shock. The hallway was empty. Robin peered up and down the darkened corridor, but he saw no movement or anything else suspicious. He listened hard for any sound that would indicate someone was hiding, but the hallway remained quiet and the air, still. Robin frowned and then shrugged. He was probably still a bit paranoid from having been on the run for so long, and talking about top-secret information in the dead of night didn't help matters.

He turned back to Michael, who was waiting expectantly. Robin shook his head then shut the door. "Nothing," he said. Michael pursed his lips and Robin knew he wasn't going to say anything more tonight.

"It would be a very good idea for you to come to the celebration my lord," he said stiffly. "It's been too long and the King grows restless."

Robin sighed internally. Something exciting was happening, something to distract him, and he was going to have to wait. And suffer through another party. "Well then, give the King my regards and tell him I am looking forward to attending."

Michael nodded and Robin thought he saw the slightest slump of his shoulders, something akin to relief. "Please, rest here tonight," Robin offered. "You can be back on the road when the sun comes up."

"I should be getting back," the seneschal said, but the weariness in his voice made Robin insist.

"You'll never make it back if you fall of your horse in the dark and break something. I'll have your horse ready to go and have Lucy prepare something hot for you when you wake." Briefly he thought about how nice it would be to offer a hot cup of coffee, but he quickly forced his mind away from that train of thought.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well. Only a few hours."

"I'm afraid my guest room is occupied, but you can take -"

Michael waved a hand. "No, sir. Thank you, but I am quite comfortable here."

Robin thought about trying to convince him to take Robin's room but decided that was not a battle he was going to win. "All right then. I'll get everything prepared. Sleep well."

"Thank you, Lord Robin. And if I may? The sooner you arrive in London for the celebrations, the happier the King will be."

Robin paused at the doorway. "Understood," he said, before shutting the door to this study and made his way downstairs to keep Lucy company. He wasn't going to sleep again tonight. Besides, he needed to start preparing for his departure. After months of nothing, suddenly he was already behind. Robin started making lists, preparing for alternatives and backup plans. His body itched to be on the road for something told him if he didn't leave soon, he would be too late.


	5. A Royal Guest

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen anyone look quite so nervous for a simple party," Lucille teased, nudging Robin gently. Her arm rested comfortably in the crook of his elbow as the pair of them surveyed the room. Both were dressed for a royal dinner, though they didn't sparkle as much as some couples did. When Robin told Lucille he changed his mind and was, in fact, going to the celebration in London she was delighted. Robin suggested he could escort her, since she was arriving on her own, and she agreed. It felt good to have someone covering his back.

"This is worse than trying to rob the royal coach," he murmured back to her. They made their way into the room, where people were already huddled together in their own small groups, chatting away. The air was filled with the hum of conversation and the occasional clink of dishware. Robin didn't know anyone, the consequence of becoming somewhat of a recluse.

Lucille patted his arm. "Perhaps not the most diplomatic conversation starter. But don't worry. You're a mystery, and the nobility love mysteries. You probably won't have to talk much at all."

Robin was already noticing the looks from people around the room, more and more as the minutes passed and the news of his arrival spread. "Wonderful."

Lucille looked at him, her mouth quirked in a small smile. "I would think Robin Hood liked the attention."

"Generally, sure," he said. "But from afar. This isn't Sherwood and unless you don't mind me lifting a few purses this is not my environment. I have to engage in _small talk_." Robin shuddered.

Lucille laughed while they made their way to the drink table where both Robin and Lucille picked up a shallow goblet of wine. "You'll get the hang of it, I'm sure. Come, I'll introduce you to some friends."

Lucille guided him through the different clusters of people and Robin nodded and smiled at the guests as they passed by. Eventually she stopped at a group of young nobles, all about Robin's same age.

"Hello everyone," Lucille said as they came up to the group. "I'd like to introduce Robin—"

"Of Locksley," one of the men interrupted, holding out his hand to shake Robin's. "Wonderful to finally see you here. I've just won ten pounds because you showed up."

Robin raised his eyebrows. "Glad I could be of service."

"Alexander, second son to the Earl of Cornwall," Lucille introduced him, amusement laced in her voice. Alexander grinned cheekily, his dark eyes sparking with what Robin guessed was perpetual mischief. "If it makes you feel better, he lost about 30 pounds betting on you to appear last month."

Robin rubbed the back of his neck, grinning at the young noble. "No hard feelings, I hope?"

Alexander waved his hand in front of his face, like batting a cobweb away. "I'm used to it."

"Alex bets on everything." Another young man, this one shortest of all them and a little on the round side, shook Robin's hand. "He will win it all back tomorrow and then lose more than he has the same afternoon. Charles of Essex."

Robin nodded a greeting, then a woman introduced herself next. "Annalise, Countess of Gloucester." She was a tiny, stocky woman with the palest blonde hair Robin had seen. Annalise bobbed a quick curtsey, and then eyed him with a frank and open gaze.

"Anna here was one of the Queen's ladies before me," Lucille said, reaching out and squeezing the woman's hand. "She helped me learn the ropes."

"Before I got married," Anna said with a smile, flicking her fan open by her side and then closing it again. "And Lucille didn't need much guidance anyway. It was my excuse to make friends."

Lucille noted her fidgeting and then hooked her arm around Anna's. "Well, I'm glad you made the excuse. If you'll pardon us gentlemen, it's time for us to discuss some ladies' business." She winked and the two women left the group, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

"Just as well, I wouldn't be able to keep up with them anyway." Charles sipped his goblet with a cheerful laugh. "Robin, how does it feel to be at your first court function as a pardoned man?"

He shook his head and said with dry humor. "I think everyone would prefer if I was still an outlaw."

Alex laughed, "it sure would be exciting. But if it makes you feel better, I'm sure there are still a lot of people here keeping a closer eye on their valuables."

Robin raised an eyebrow while Charles placed his head in his hand at Alex's quip. "I'm not sure that helps," Robin said.

Alex gave a placating gesture. "Not me! I haven't collected my ten pounds yet so I have nothing on me." That wasn't quite true, considering the rings on his hands and expensive clothing that could have feed his crew for months but Robin wasn't going to point that out. He heard no malice in Alex's voice and the man seemed pretty harmless.

"You don't have to worry for too long Robin," Charles said. "Have you heard of the Prince's new guest this season?"

Robin shook his head and Alexander looked at him with envy. "You're lucky. It's all my aunts can talk about. Nobody seems to know exactly where he is from. Which of course makes him the most interesting person at court."

"Which means he's could be close to ousting you from that position Robin," Charles added.

"He can take it," Robin said. "I wouldn't mind losing the attention."  
Alexander shook his head. "You say that now, but at least attention keeps you relevant. If you don't have the money or the position, the only way to get the power is through talk."

"What is this new arrival's name?" Robin asked. He wasn't going to mention that he didn't need or want the power Alexander referred too. It was too much of an oddity that would put him right back in the center of gossip, where he didn't want to be in the first place.

"I think his name is Jeremiah," Charles answered. "All anyone knows is that he is from the east and apparently has fled some harsh conditions."

The information gave the men nothing to go on and everything to speculate about. "How does he know the Prince?" Robin asked, thinking about the King's summons. The lack of information about this new person wasn't comforting and he was already on edge from the mysterious visit from Michael. A strange new visitor did nothing to help matters.

Charles shook his head. "No one knows. My sister believes Prince John is just trying to win back some goodwill from the people by taking in an unfortunate soul, and Jeremiah just happened to get lucky."

Alexander scoffed into his drink. "I don't think Prince John, even if he wanted to win the goodwill of the people, could bring himself to do that kind of good deed."

"I agree," Robin said, his voice hard. The two noblemen looked at each other but Robin's reaction was no surprise. After all, he was the outlaw who spent years stealing from the very Prince in question.

Charles glanced over Robin's shoulder and his eyes widened. "Speak of the devil," he muttered, warning the other two.

"I couldn't believe it when I heard the famous Robin Hood had finally emerged to face the masses," a voice said from behind them. Robin turned to see a young man approach, hands clasped behind his back. His thick red hair was tied demurely back in a queue, showing off high cheekbones and a wide jaw. Robin frowned, scrambling to come up with a reply. But it was something about the way he talked that threw him off balance.

"Well, now you can," Robin finally said, holding out his hand. "Robin of Locksley."

"Jeremiah," the newcomer shook Robin's hand in response. "I've heard a lot about you since my arrival. The stories have been very illuminating."

Robin glanced at his companions, who seemed just as confused by the remark as he was. "I'm afraid I didn't catch where you are visiting us from."

Robin didn't notice an obvious physical change to Jeremiah's smile, but it somehow seemed more menacing. "That would be because I didn't say. I'm from the east, an insignificant country that frankly I'm happier to have left. You wouldn't know it."

The dismissal grated him but Robin knew this was not the place or the company to press the matter.

"And how are you finding court?" Alexander asked, ever the courtier.

"Very well, thank you. It's a pleasure to be somewhere where civilization hasn't fallen completely by the wayside."

"What did you do back in your country?" Charles said.

"It must have been important for you to know the Prince so well as to get his help," Robin added, his voice crackling like ice. The three men couldn't help but notice and Jeremiah seemed to enjoy the effect he had. Robin shifted, unable to quite put his finger on where his animosity was coming from.

"I was simply an advisor, one of many. I had the opportunity to meet the Prince on a state visit and he thought my insights were valuable. When criminals infiltrated my country and I fled, he realized I could be of service. It's lucky I came when I did."

"Why is that?" Alexander sipped out of his goblet.

Jeremiah looked between the three of them with mild surprise. "Have you not heard? The Prince has asked me to investigate the mysterious crimes that have occurred here and see if they are similar to the warning signs that came before my country was overrun. From my initial investigation they seem to originate in Sherwood."

Robin blinked and Charles and Alexander looked at him sidelong. "What?"

"Sherwood is the perfect setting for criminals, as you well know," Jeremiah said, smiling slightly over the rim of his own wine goblet. "If we aren't careful it may get out of hand. I would hate to see this place follow in the footsteps of my old home."

"I haven't heard of any reports of criminal activity in Sherwood," Robin said. "Nothing out of the ordinary and certainly nothing we can't handle. You must have bad information."

Jeremiah nodded gravely. "Sherwood is a large place, Lord Locksley. I suppose we cannot expect one man to police the whole forest. If you do need any assistance, please let me know."

Robin clenched his jaw. Jeremiah saw someone over Alexander's shoulder and nodded. "Well, it's been a pleasure gentlemen. If you'll excuse me."

He pushed through the group, leaving the young noblemen to stare after him as he met to converse with another group of nobles. "He certainly knows how to work a room," Charles said drily.

Robin hummed noncommittally, adding Prince John's guest to the growing list of things he needed to figure out while he was in London. While nothing said at court could ever be taken at face value it seemed like his words would require even more digging than usual.

He chatted with Alexander and Charles for a while, the young men introducing him to other nobility that happened to mix with their group for a few moments before moving on. He let the other two do most of the talking, content to stick with the people he knew. The double meanings and sharp words connected to sharp looks was exhausting. The worst was having to politely converse with nobles who had refused to aid him for years, knowing they would have turned him in any chance they had, and act like they were the best of friends.

It was a relief when trumpets finally pierced the hubbub of the room and the crowd turned towards the dais as King Richard, Prince John, and Queen Eleanor appeared. "Welcome everyone!" Richard's voice boomed, filling every inch of the hall. He was warm and welcoming and Robin could see the smiling responses from the nobility. "Thank you for joining us to celebrate my beautiful, kind mother's birthday. Of course the Queen deserves more celebration than just day, which is why tonight's festivities will begin what is bound to be an exciting week of good food, good company, and of course good drink!"

The people cheered and the Queen looked at her son with fond exasperation. Robin eyed the King closely, hoping to catch any signal. But the King didn't even look in his direction. Instead he looked as happy and carefree as ever. "I won't keep you any longer," Richard said to the crowd. "Go, enjoy the evening."

The room filled with applause and it felt mostly genuine. Everyone enjoyed a good excuse to celebrate and a royal birthday was as good as any. Music started up, a lively tune that invited people of all ages to the dancing square that was beginning to fill with spinning couples. "Let the hunting begin, gentlemen," Alexander saluted the two them with his glass. "You're lucky to have come with a partner already, Robin. These women—and their mothers—are like wolves just waiting for a lone single man with money to wander into their midst."

"That's a little harsh," Charles admonished.

"I just escorted Lucille as a friend," Robin protested. But from the looks the other two were giving him, they didn't buy it. His stomach clenched, wondering if he had just accidently announced to the court something he didn't want to.

"Even so," Alexander said. "It doesn't hurt to pretend. At least keep the mothers with single daughters off your back."

"Gentlemen," the three men started and turned to see both Lucille and Anna behind them once more arm smiling like they had just caught all three noblemen with sneaking sweets from the kitchen. "Looks like we came back just in time."

Charles and Alexander looked at Robin, who froze momentarily. The women stared at him until Lucille prodded him with a raised eyebrow. He cleared his throat and handed his empty goblet to one of the many pages circling the room. "Lady Lucille, may I have this dance?"

She curtsied properly and extended her arm, which Robin took and then escorted her to the dance floor leaving his new acquaintances behind. His shoulders were stiff and the beat of the music felt off as they inserted themselves into the twirling couples.

"Relax," Lucille said. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

They switched the direction of their rotation and Robin smiled, though his eyes betrayed concern. "You were smart and escaped the room. The Prince's new friend even came to speak to us."

Lucille's gaze flicked over to where Jeremiah was standing, her lips pursed. "That doesn't surprise me, unfortunately. What did he say to you?"

They stepped away from each other to switch places with another group, stepping in time to the lilting music. Robin waited until they were together again before answering. "Nothing much, which I suppose is normal for court."

She nodded. "He is more closed-mouthed than most," she said. "And a true mystery in court is more likely than not a dangerous one."

She was right. The thing about court is that you never knew when something was going to harm you. At least in the forest you could tell predator from prey, poisonous from harmless. Here, everyone tried to pass themselves off as the harmless kind and pulled it off until it was too late to notice you had eaten the poison berries rather than the safe ones.

The music ended on a satisfactory chord and the dancers applauded the musicians politely. "By the way," Lucille said. "I suggest you ask a few more women to dance, if you don't want to give anyone the wrong impression."

Another gentleman came up and offered her the next dance. Lucille accepted and she was soon lost in the crowd. "Thanks for the tip," Robin murmured. He glanced around the room, trying not to catch the eyes of hopeful young women for too long. As more and more were asked to dance, he squared his shoulders and let out a breath. He couldn't think about the past anymore, and the only way to make it to the end was to go through. Robin just had to wait and play the game.


	6. Accusations

When Marian made it back to the clearing, everyone else had already returned, crowding around Owen and Christopher, who was regaling the crowd with their game exploits. No one noticed her and Antony's entrance. The older Ranger glanced at her and joined the crowd.

Marian stood at the edge, scanning for Bryan. When she found him standing with other apprentices, laughing as if he hadn't a care in the world, her vision hazed over with fury. She marched over and yanked him by the shoulder to face her.

"You bastard," she hissed.

Bryan looked a little startled by the fact that she was there, but he recovered quickly and snorted. "Decide to go for a swim?" The others chuckled, but she didn't even notice that her clothes were still damp.

"I could've died," she snapped. "What, exactly, have I done to you that would push you so far as to leave me to drown?"

The other apprentices fell into an uncomfortable silence and Bryan clenched his jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about, but you better be careful before accusing me and spreading rumors."

Marian gaped at him. "Oh, that's thick, coming from you." She responded.

"Come on, Bryan, let's just go," one of the apprentices said. They nudged him in the shoulder and Bryan nodded.

But, as they turned away Bryan leaned in closer and whispered so no one else could hear. "But, between you and me, you're going to wish you had stayed in the river. It would have been best for everyone."

They left her standing there, her clothes in that uncomfortable state of almost-dry. She felt nauseous.

"Marian! There you are!" Owen came up behind her, Christopher trailing him. "We were wondering what had happened, did everything go all right? Oh," he stopped, taking in her appearance. "I guess not. Listen, I'm sure you packed extra socks, but if you need a clean, dry pair I've got some you can borrow."

She couldn't look away from Bryan and his friends. "Bryan just tried to kill me," she said. Her voice was steady and almost uninterested but the shocked silence behind her was enough to indicate how she should be feeling.

"Say that again," Owen said. This time she did turn and Owen looked horrified. Christopher looked like he was regretting coming along.

"Bryan tried to kill me during the game."

She saw red creeping up Owen's neck as his eyes snapped to Bryan's retreating back. "That piece of shit. Marian, you have to do something about this! If you want back up while you beat the teeth out of his head just say the word."

"You know we can't do that," she scolded, though she knew full well he was serious.

"What if he tries again?" Christopher asked in a quiet voice.

Owen nodded. "Chris has a point. You can't let this go on. Marian?"

She pushed past them, knowing what she had to do. It wouldn't stop, so long as the both of them were in the Ranger Corps. Owen and Christopher followed her, hanging back to see what was going to happen.

"Gilan!" she shouted. Heads turned and Gilan looked surprised as she strode up to him. Halt, who had been lounging on the fringes, straightened when he noticed her expression. Will was standing next to him but he rushed to her side.

"Marian, what's wrong?" he murmured. Marians shook her head slightly. She wished she could have given Will some notice, but she needed to do this now.

"Commandant, I request a formal charge be made against Apprentice Corpin for leaving me to die."

"What?" Will's voice cracked through the surprised shouting. Gilan frowned, his expression thunderous and if it had been quiet enough Marian might have heard Halt's growl. But the other Rangers around them started talking, some shouting in protest.

Marian didn't waiver as she looked Gilan in the eye. "I want him dismissed from the Ranger Corps."

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"We are here today to address the matter of Bryan Corpin, who has been charged with abandoning a comrade in a life-threatening situation." Gilan's voice rang through the clearing. Gilan sat at a table at the front of the assembly, flanked by Will and Bryan's mentor, Nolan. The other Rangers and apprentices were seated behind Marian, who was situated front and center as Bryan's accuser. She didn't dare turn around to see who was there, but the clearing was thick with silence, like a forest when a predator prowled through the trees. Nobody dared speak.

There were a few Rangers who believed this was a waste of time. A tribunal like this hadn't occurred in years and many of them didn't believe her. But if Bryan was willing to let her die, Marian was not about to let it go. His tormenting had gone on long enough and now it had almost gotten her killed.

"How do you plead?" Gilan asked.

Bryan was standing in front of the three Rangers. They had stripped him of all weapons and his cloak, though the bronze oakleaf still gleamed on his chest.

"Not guilty," he snapped. "This is completely ridiculous."

"Gilan," Nolan said, leaning closer to the commandant. "What are we doing here? You know Will Treaty's apprentice has never liked Bryan. She simply can't handle the pressure and has decided to take it out on him."

Marian saw Will stiffen. Gilan glared at Nolan. "She has cause to bring the charge," he snapped. "Now be quiet until you have an opportunity to speak."

Marian raised her eyebrows in surprise, then remembered to hide her emotions. She couldn't show anything right now, or more people than Nolan would accuse her of simply trying to get revenge on Bryan. But her word could only go so far. Was it enough?

"Would the accuser like to speak?" Gilan asked.

She couldn't stop her hands from shaking. Taking a deep breath, Marian stood and stepped up next to Bryan. She could feel his glare heating her skin, but she refused to look at him. Instead she focused her attention on Will and Gilan. They were the only two she was certain weren't hostile to her accusation. She clasped her hands behind her back and under her cloak, making sure no one could see her nerves.

"Bryan and I were assigned as partners for the exercise," Marian said. "We tried to get around to where we knew the others had set up the flag by crossing the river further downstream than was safe."

"Whose idea was that?" Will asked.

"Well, his," she answered. "I argued we cross upstream but Bryan thought we needed to keep an element of surprise. "

"So you knew it was dangerous," Nolan interrupted. "But you went anyway."

Marian clenched her jaw. "I knew it was dangerous, but I wasn't going to leave him by himself. He was going to walk across right then and there, but I thought we needed something to hold on to. So I suggested a rope hand-bridge." Something dawned on her and she looked over at Bryan for the first time since bringing her accusation to Gilan. "He tied the rope to the tree." That was why the rope came undone so quickly. He didn't just leave her after she fell, he intentionally orchestrated it so she wouldn't make it across.

Bryan sneered and she almost took a step back. But then her face flushed, not from embarrassment but from anger. Marian had trouble breathing as she thought about the events once more. She had _trusted_ him. She may not like him, but they were Rangers and they were supposed to trust each other! She tried to quell the overwhelming desire to break something.

"He went across first," she began again. Marian straightened her shoulders. "Then I followed. When I was halfway across the water began to rise. The knot slipped and I fell." She heard someone snort in disbelief behind her but she didn't dare turn. "Bryan stood there, watching while I drowned. Then he left just as the arrow snapped and I was swept downriver. He left me to drown."

"If he really left you to die," Nolan stepped in again. Marian noticed the muscle in Gilan's jaw jump but he didn't stop the other Ranger. "How is it you are alive now?"

She frowned in confusion. "Does it matter? I managed to grab hold of a tree branch and pull myself on to the bank."

"I just don't understand why we are here if she is alive and well. There's no proof Bryan did what she claims," Nolan looked over at Gilan.

"He abandoned me!" Marian yelled. "He made the knot loose enough that it would come undone and then left me while I drowned." How could he not understand? "He left me in that river to die. I won't apologize for not playing along."

"Marian is right," Will said, glaring across the table at Nolan. "The result is not determinative, it's Bryan's actions. If she was drowning, he had a duty to provide aid. And that is not even considering the hand he had in endangering her life to begin with. He has broken the cardinal rule of the Ranger code."

"You're buying this?" Bryan asked. "She has no proof of anything!"

Gilan's hands were steepled in front of his face. He lowered them to the table and looked at Marian. Her heart sank. He looked defeated already. "Do you have proof Marian?"

She wanted to scream at them. How could she prove that Bryan didn't do what he was supposed to? Why couldn't they believe her? Didn't they see what Bryan was doing? Her eyes burned and she had to work to get her voice past the lump in her throat. "No," she said quietly.

Gilan looked pained, which didn't bode well. But if she didn't have any proof then it was her word against his, and her word would never be enough to expel him from the Corps.

Bryan's smile was so smug it made her skin crawl. There was some murmuring behind her but Marian couldn't bring herself to face the seated spectators. She was going to be even more of an outcast now. Her shoulders drooped from the weight of knowing that her accusation would follow the rest of her career and Bryan would get away with it.

"I saw him."

Marian whipped her head around. Antony was standing, facing Gilan, his face as unreadable as ever. Owen gaped up at his mentor from his seat, while the other Rangers watched in shock.

"Antony?" Gilan asked. "You saw Bryan leave Marian in the river?"

Antony's nod was mechanical. "I anticipated they might try something like that, based on the direction they went after the game had commenced. I crossed the river and found them when Bryan was crossing. I positioned myself to assess their performance. Needless to say," he glared at the boy beside Marian, who was slowly realizing that his actions might actually have consequences. "I was disappointed. I watched Bryan leave even before the arrow snapped."

Marian glanced over at Bryan. She had never seen someone's face so pale.

"May I ask why you didn't lend Marian a hand?" she heard Will ask, his voice brittle. Antony's mouth twitched.

"I followed her progress down river. When I saw that she was going to be fine, I waited until I received the signal that the game was over. I also wanted to see if Bryan might return. He didn't."

Nolan slumped in his chair, shaking his head. Will looked relieved and Gilan just seemed tired. Marian wasn't sure how to process this newfound ally.

"You cannot tell me you wouldn't have been happy to see her gone," Bryan spat. There were a few sharp intakes of breath from the assembled crowd and Antony narrowed his eyes. "I just did what most of you wished you could!"

"It is no secret. I don't believe girls should be part of the Ranger Corps," Anthony said, facing off with the younger boy. "But whether I like it or not, she is here and she has completed ever test so far. Do I believe that she will continue to succeed? No. But no matter our personal beliefs, we must allow the tests to do their job. In the meantime, we do not abandon fellow Rangers."

Bryan started laughing and Marian's gut twisted. "You want to talk to me about abandoning? She _isn't_ a Ranger, and she never will be!" Then he stepped closer to her, crowding her, yelling in her face. "Where were you when the rest of us were fighting for our lives? Where were you when the King was killed? You ran! You're the one who abandoned us, I was just returning the favor."

Marian's body quivered and she couldn't decide whether to put as much distance between them as possible or punch him to the ground: to give in to the rage or try to rise above it. Bryan sneered. "Everyone except the men you've been spreading it for knows you ran and left the rest of us to face the danger."

Rage won. Marian's hand lashed out and slammed into Bryan's throat. He doubled over, making a strangled, chocking whine. "You know nothing," she said. Her voice was steady, but her body flashed hot and cold and her stomach roiled. She wanted to cry, but she didn't know why. She wanted to scream and, most of all, she wanted to hit him again. Instead, she looked up at the assembled Rangers, most of whom were on their feet.

"I know you think I ran, despite the report I also know the Commandant circulated to you," she said. "I know you don't think I have what it takes to be a Ranger." She looked straight at Atony, who was immovable as stone. "You are wrong. I followed my orders. If you can't accept that there is nothing I can do."

She stared down at Bryan, who was still struggling to suck in air. "I watched friends die. I was tortured. I lived not knowing whether my fellow Rangers lived or died, if my country was ruined forever. You. Know. Nothing." She couldn't remember at what point she had started crying.

"I don't believe you," Bryan wheezed. "No one does."

Marian nodded and mechanically unhooked the cloak from around her neck. She could feel the tears trickle down her cheek but she no longer cared if anyone saw. It was like she was watching the whole proceeding from outside herself. Nothing mattered anymore. "If you want proof, here's your proof." She drew her shirt over her head, baring her back, partially obscured by her breastband, to the crowd.

Whatever noise that was brewing during the confrontation died. She knew what they saw. Her back was now a mass of twisted and puckered scars, a map of pain and torment etched into her skin. Even now the memory was so seared in to her mind she could almost feel it happening all over again.

She let go of the shirt, the fabric falling softly over her skin. She didn't want to see their faces, their pity, sympathy, or indifference. All she wanted to do right now was forget for a little while. She looked at the tribunal. Will was on his feet, held in place by Gilan's death grip on his arm. Nolan refused to meet her eyes. "Do whatever what you want with him. I'm done." Marian picked her cloak up off the ground and walked out of the clearing.

As soon as she left, Gilan released Will, who followed Marian out. The rest of the Rangers stayed, waiting to hear their Commandant's judgment. Bryan had finally recovered from Marian's punch and he struggled to his feet. "Apprentice Corpin," Gilan stood, his voice ringing across the clearing. "I am saddened and ashamed that after all the Corps has gone through in the last few years we have to conduct a trial such as this. I find you guilty of willfully and intentionally abandoning a comrade in mortal danger."

Bryan frowned, but there was a telling silence from the crowd. Gilan continued. "The Ranger Corps is a body of people who are supposed to adhere to the highest of ideals and morals. Without trust in our comrades, we fall apart. I cannot have someone who sows the seeds of distrust and doubt. From your own words, you intended to abandon Marian to her death with the hope and expectation she would not make it out of that river alive. Remove your medallion."

"What?" Bryan asked, more puzzled than anything.

Gilan put his shoulders back and Bryan cowered. "You are hereby removed from the Ranger Corps. You will not finish your apprenticeship."

"You can't do that!" Bryan shouted. He looked around for help from the audience but he found none. "You can't!"

Gilan ignored him and turned to the now former mentor. "Nolan, you will see it done."

Nolan nodded, shamed and defeated. He knew the moment Antony stood and testified that his apprentice was done for. "Yes, sir."

Gilan addressed the assembled Rangers once more. "We are adjourned. You are all dismissed." The Rangers dispersed, Bryan's pleas falling on deaf ears.

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Marian brushed Sky's coat, staring absently at the whorls she made in the pony's hair. After her outburst she had taken Sky for a long ride, relishing in the feel of the horse beneath her, the burn in her muscles as she balanced in the saddle, and the sound of Sky's hooves pounding into the dirt. When they were both drenched in sweat and exhausted, they meandered their way back to the campgrounds this time with Marian on foot and Sky walking along next to her. She wouldn't admit it, but during the walk sometimes Marian would close her eyes and she could almost pretend she was back in Sherwood.

Sky was groomed to perfection long ago, but both horse and rider knew at this point it wasn't about getting the pony clean. Right now, Marian just needed to the contact. Sky would never judge her for anything.

The pony's ears flicked to the left and Marian glanced up. She watched Will approach from the other side and grab his own brush. He didn't say anything, just took up brushing the side that hadn't received multiple rounds of grooming. Mentor and apprentice stood in silence for a while, the Ranger pony standing between them munching on grass.

"Bryan is gone."

Marian's hand stilled of its own accord, but she didn't look up.

"Gilan stripped him of his medallion. He will never be a Ranger now. You're safe."

She nodded, but didn't feel the relief she knew should be there. It was like he was telling her the list of chores that needed to be done tomorrow—an important fact to remember but one of mild interest. What was so wrong with her that she didn't feel anything when justice was finally done?

Will watched Marian's face closely and tried again. "Joe tells me you have been getting up pretty early the past few days. And we haven't even talked about what happened with Owen at the archery range."

The slight tightening of her grip on the brush and the flash of fear across her face told Will more than her words did. "They're just bad dreams," she said, resolutely starting to brush Sky again. "I was startled is all, and I took his shift as punishment. But I can do more if you think it's necessary."

"You didn't need to take his shift if in the first place," Will told her firmly. "Marian, look at me."

She did, slowly. He waited until she had fully met his gaze. "Did I ever tell you about the time after I escaped slavery in Skandia?"

Marian frowned and shook her head slowly. He didn't expect an answer, so he continued. "You know I had become addicted to warmweed while I worked in the yards and Cassandra helped me break the addiction." Marian nodded. "After I was clean of the drug it was easy to forget about it, for a while, because we had to prevent the Temujai invasion of Skandia. But when I got back home, it was like a dam broke. Everything came crashing in on me, fear that I would relapse, guilt for letting myself become addicted, more guilt for liking the feeling the drug gave me, anger at those who brought me the drug to begin with..." he stopped. "I had nightmares. I lost focus. The world just didn't fit right anymore. I felt like it was my fault and that I was somehow lesser, undeserving of being a Ranger, for feeling this way."

Marian looked at him wide-eyed and she looked younger than he ever remembered. Will was hit with the realization that she was only nineteen and still had to carry more burdens than many adults twice her age. "What did you do?" she asked.

"It took time. But I let myself feel those things and I let people help me." He reached across Sky's back and covered her hand with his. "You are not lesser for feeling what you do, for letting things affect you. The important thing is to accept and then overcome them. Lean on the people around you. You don't have to go through it all alone."

Sky leaned into her, nickering softly. Marian patted her pony. "I know you're mourning the people you had to leave behind in England," Will murmured. Marian felt her eyes fill and she blinked hard to stop herself from crying. "You do still have a life in Araluen."

"I know," she said, of course she knew that. It was all she ever wanted and that was the worst part. "It's just..." What exactly could she say?

"You don't have to talk about everything right now," Will told her after the silence stretched for long minutes. "But I'm here when you're ready." He gave her hand one last pat and then walked back towards campground, leaving Marian to her thoughts.


	7. On the Hunt

Gravel crunched under Robin's boots as he made his way to the royal hunting stables. Someone had slipped the invitation under his door last night and, while hunting might be the one thing about court he could actually excel at, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Two days had passed since the first dinner and still nothing from the king. He knew the hunting invitation likely went out to most of the nobility which meant he wouldn't get time to speak with Richard. Logically, he knew the celebrations would last for days so he still had a decent window of opportunity to talk to him. But the silence from King Richard made Robin question what exactly he was doing here.

_At least hunting will be a welcome diversion_ , he thought. He debated bringing his own bow and arrows, but since he wasn't sure of the protocol, he decided to forego them. He could shoot just as well with a borrowed weapon, even though his fancy clothes were not nearly as comfortable as his regular forest garb. He had to remember to thank John when he returned to Locksley for the foresight to even buy clothes more fitting of nobility. He would have been even more out of place without the new wardrobe.

He rounded the bend in the path and his heart sank. Already there were people milling about under a white pavilion, holding on to drinks and dainty plates of food while servers circled through the guests with silver trays, presenting the early morning refreshments. He saw the flash of bright colors and sheen of sunlight on silk from the outfits of both men and women. Off in the distance other servants corralled the horses and dogs called up for the event.

One of the servers circled by and he grabbed a glass of fruit juice. The crystal sparkled in the sunlight, contrasting to the cool, dark liquid it contained. He edged over to one of the larger groups of people, content to hang on the fringe and listen. Robin smiled as he sipped when he recognized Alexander's voice.

"But, at least we eat well!" he responded to a question Robin had missed, flourishing his hand toward the decadent table that almost overflowed with fresh food under the pavilion's shade.

The group murmured it's assent and Robin snorted. He didn't think he would ever get used to the opulence at the palace.

One of the older ladies noticed him and turned her body to bring him into the conversation. "Lord Locksley! Tell us, how does it compare to your own hunts? This must be quite tame compared to what you're used to."

The air thickened as the members of their party waited to see whether the conversation would fall into disaster. There certainly was an opportunity. Robin debated going into detail about just how exciting the hunger, cold, and sleeplessness really was. But he couldn't afford the social consequences that might come from it.

"It's true, you are a little more…up close and personal with nature as an outlaw," he responded. "But I have to say, the chocolates alone recommended this style of hunting over anything I have been used to."

The nobles smiled and relaxed, the tension easing away. Robin caught a look from Alex that he couldn't quite decipher, but the young man quickly grinned along with the rest.

"Speaking of," Robin said. "I think I'm going to fill my own plate." He inclined his head politely. "Such delicacies are still a novelty and I don't want to pass up an opportunity to taste them. If you'll excuse me."

They let him leave and he browsed the table, attempting to stretch out his time alone. He wasn't quite up to the verbal sparring that was so much a part of court conversation this early in the morning.

"It's good to see you accepted this morning's invitation."

Robin looked over in surprise at King Richard, who snagged a pastry on the sly and gave Robin a wink as he popped it into his mouth. Robin's stomach clenched and he set down his plate and glass, wondering if he would finally get some answers.

"I couldn't give up the opportunity to show off just a little at something I'm actually good at here," Robin didn't quite try to hide his grin. "I'm not quite used to not always having the upper hand."

Richard chuckled. Then he placed a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Walk with me?" Robin nodded, though saying 'no' never crossed his mind. Richard clasped his hands loosely behind his back, looking as if he were out for a stroll and enjoying the fresh air. But the stroll was a careful maneuvering away from the prying eyes and ears of the nobility under the pavilion. Robin glanced to his right and saw Alexander watching them, but he lifted his glass slightly then looked away when he saw Robin looking.

"I have to thank you for your patience," Richard began in a much softer tone. "Michael's visit must have been a shock." He glanced at Robin. "Though it would have been nice if I hadn't had to have sent him in the first place."

Robin cringed inside, though outwardly only the tightening of his shoulders betrayed any chagrin. "I am sorry Your Majesty."

Richard cast him a sympathetic look, but Robin was looking out at the horizon. "I know it must be hard, son," he said. "The Lord knows it is difficult for me to adjust to life after war. But the important thing is you are here now. How are you occupying your free evenings during your visit?"

Robin frowned at the sudden change of topic. "Sire?"

"Tonight, I suggest you visit the Tapestry Gallery. One of the lesser known pieces, _The Hunt_ , is a particular favorite of mine. I think you'll find it has more depth to it than you realize." The King clapped him on the shoulder once more and then leisurely made his way back to the main group, calling them to get ready for the day.

"My lord." Robin turned, startled out of his confusion. An older man was holding onto the reins of a lovely grey and white speckled mare who was already saddled and ready to ride, complete with a bow and quiver attached to the saddle. The horse eyed him but stayed still under the command of the hands on her reins. "His Majesty has provided a horse for you for the hunt, if you would?"

"Thank you," Robin said, scrambling to process what the King had told him while inspecting his horse for the day. She was a runner and for a moment the mare reminded him of Sky. The two horses were opposite in build but he entertained the idea that they had the same spark of intelligence and heart in their eyes. "What is her name?"

"Storm," the servant said, gazing fondly at the animal.

"It suits her," he said. The servant bowed and walked back to the other crowd of horses, who was starting to get restless as they sensed the renewed energy of the gathered group.

"Hello there," he murmured to the horse. "I'm Robin. What do you say, are you ready to ride today?"

Storm huffed and gently nudged her nose against his chest. "Careful," a voice said behind him. "Next thing you know you'll think she is talking back to you."

Robin turned around and laughed a little when he saw Lucille. "You never know." She was dressed in tall boots and a sapphire blue dress, with high slits and midnight blue breeches to allow for easier riding. Her hair was pulled back in a simple bun and she wore heavy leather gloves, embroidered with gold thread. It was a simpler outfit than many of the other guests but still managed to fit in with the rest of the retinue. "I should have known you would be here," he said.

She grinned. "I wouldn't miss it. Adela and I rarely get to test ourselves on a royal hunt so I try to take advantage of every outdoor event."

"And where is your lovely merlin this morning? " he asked. Lucille had brought the bird with her during their journey, but he never got around to seeing it up close, and he was intrigued to watch it hunt today.

"Edward is bringing her down from the mews." Edward was the master falconer who had served Lucille's family, and Robin met him during her visit. "I'm afraid I don't get as much time with her as I like, but of anyone else I would rather have him care for her."

"I've never understood falconry," Robin said. "To be fair, being an outlaw puts a few limitations on enjoying the sport," Lucille laughed. "But it seems risky, giving up control to a creature who might fly away and never return."

Lucille glanced over to where a servant held two riderless horses. Their breeding and tack indicated a quality that Robin presumed meant they were for royalty. "It was the Queen who started me in the sport, actually. Since she is a falconer herself and all her ladies must learn in order to accompany her on hunts. I took to it more than most, so now that I'm back at the castle as a noble, she requested I join her." She looked back at him, the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. "And so long as you build up the trust and love that is a part of any bond, and you have faith, I've found they always come back."

Robin shifted on his feet, but was spared from responding when King Richard and Queen Eleanor swung into their saddles. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Prince John was not in attendance. It was common knowledge that he tried to get out of as many of these kinds of events as he could, but often society dictated he attend. But fortune was kind to them today.

Lucille touched his arm. "I'll see you on the trails," she said. He nodded and she made her way back to her own horse, where Edward waited with her falcon hooded and perched on his arm. She walked like she had wings of her own, and the rest of the people on the ground would be lucky to see her fly. She nodded and chatted to the other nobles milling about as she passed through them. Robin shook his head, envious of the way she moved so easily with the nobility. He still felt like an outlaw dressing up in his father's clothes.

Robin mounted Storm and nudged closer to the growing group of people. She responded to his touch well and he found himself relaxing.

He wasn't sure whether to rejoin the circle of nobles from before or remain apart. Lucille was already next to the Queen, chatting comfortably with her and the few ladies accompanying her. His arrival there would be too much of an intrusion. Then Alexander waved him over across the crowd and Robin guided Storm his way with a sigh of relief.

"It's too early for this," Alexander grumbled good-naturedly as Robin tugged his horse to a stop. "You think the Queen of all people would sleep past the crack of dawn simply because she could."

"You seemed awake enough a few minutes ago," Robin commented, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. The sun was well up in the sky, but it was early enough that the morning chill still clung to the air so Robin decided not to correct Alexander's assessment of the time.

"Practice. Plus, I wouldn't hear the end of it from my father if I blew off the lords and ladies." The young man took a swig from his canteen. Then he eyed Robin as if he had just stolen the last of his favorite pastry. "You however, seem to be able to get away with it."

Robin shrugged, figuring it was best not to reply. "Bastard," Alexander muttered. "Well, then, I'm making you take a turn as the social one, at least until luncheon. It's only fair."

Robin made a face and Alexander chuckled. Then Richard stood up in his stirrups and signaled for the hunting party to move out. Robin touched his heels to Storm's sides and she sprang into motion. He pulled on the reins a bit at first, but silently promised her that when the time came they would get to run.

RMRMRMRMRMRMR

The hunt had ended hours ago and hours after that Robin finally found himself alone as he strolled through the tapestry gallery, looking on in polite interest at the intricate designs. The torches on the wall, far away from the delicate cloth, cast a pleasant, warm glow on the room. Every once in awhile he could catch faint footsteps or chatter, but he had wandered far enough into the gallery that this late at night he could pretend he was the only one in the castle.

He thought he heard a light footfall and cast a glance over his shoulder. The ancient castle and it's echoing hallways did nothing to ease the prickle on the back of his neck. But only the figures frozen on the tapestries holding their eternal watch kept him company. Robin ignored his sense of alarm and searched the etched plates on the walls for the tapestry King Richard had told him about.

He entered a room off a secondary hallow, small enough that it seemed tacked on as a second thought. A couple of tapestries hung on the wall, but they were nothing special. Robin was about to leave when he caught the title of one in the corner: _The Hunt_. The picture depicted a hunter circling a lynx in an open field. Vines of hyacinth decorated the edges. It was a nice piece, but Robin couldn't see anything particularly special about it, or why the King might recommend it.

Stone scraped against stone. Robin stepped back, searching the wall frantically for the source of the sound while he reached for the empty knife sheath on his belt. The crack at the corner where the two walls met widened. Shadow separated from shadow and Michael stepped out into the torchlight.

"What is going on?" Robin hissed. Michael just put a finger to his lips and beckoned Robin to follow. The young lord shook his head but didn't hesitate. He shouldn't be surprised, but all of this cloak and dagger put a knot in his stomach.

They both stepped into a long hallway, then Michael shut the stone door and left them in darkness. The air was stale but clean. Robin kept close to Michael as he led the two of them down the hallway, feeling his way more by touch than by sight. The passage snaked its way around the palace and Robin had a difficult time keeping track of where they were going but he was certain they stayed on the same floor.

It didn't take too long until Michael opened another door and Robin found himself in the King's private study. Richard looked up as the two of them walked in and relief flooded his face.

"Robin," he stood up. "I apologize for all the secrecy but as you'll see it was necessary."

"What do you need Your Majesty?" Robin asked, clasping his hands behind his back. The King's eyes were sad and heavy and Robin couldn't shake the chill that entered his bones.

Richard's shoulders sagged and he glanced at Michael. "At ease, Robin. Please, take a seat." He gestured toward one of the armchairs, which looked plush and comfy. But the problem was that when the King asked you to take a seat like that, it became the last thing you wanted to do. But he couldn't refuse a King's request so Robin perched on the edge of the chair.

"Last year, you and Marian warned me that Sheriff Duval's plot wasn't the whole story," he began. Robin nodded. "Thanks to you two, I've been keeping an eye out, looking for any chance that you might be right."

Robin leaned forward, thinking that maybe the King had found something to hold against Prince John. "Sire?"

Richard laced his fingers together. "I believe that someone will attempt to kill me. Soon."

He should've been prepared but the news still hit him like a rock. The weight of the King's certainty was difficult to shake. "And you want me to find the assassin?" Robin asked.

"No."

"No?" He didn't understand. "But Sire, what—"

Richard waved a hand, cutting him off. "I have a more important job for you. I need assurance that if anything were to happen to me—"

"Sire, that won't happen," Robin protested.

"That if anything were to happen to me," Richard repeated gently, "my brother will not take the throne."

Robin frowned, working through the line of succession in his head. "I'm sorry," he said, drawing out the words to buy himself time to think of what must be obvious. "Who else would inherit the throne if not Prince John?"

Richard searched Robin's face and whatever he was looking for, he found it.

"My son."

Robin stared at the King, certain he had heard him wrong. "Your Majesty, I don't understand. Your son died."

Richard shook his head. "That's what we wanted people to think. After my son was born, someone attempted to kill him, more than once, and they came dangerously close. I thought the only way to protect him and find the assassins was to hide him away. I had every intention of bringing him home once I caught the bastards but," he stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them and they shone a little brighter than usual. "We never found them. And my son grew up without a father," he said quietly.

Robin surged out of his chart. He rubbed his face in shock and paced. If the King had an heir the whole future of the country would change.

Michael watched Robin but made no move to stop him. "If your son is really alive," Robin said quietly. "Where is he?"

Richard gave him a small smile. "You know him. He goes by the name Will Scarlet."

Robin froze, locking eyes with the King. Will, his best thief, his lookout, his little brother, the one he had sent into danger so many times over the years. That little boy was the next King of England. "Will?" he whispered. "That's not...that can't be possible."

"Sit, please." Richard braced his elbows on his knees. "I'll tell you what you need to know."


	8. A Parent's Legacy

_*London, around ten years ago*_

The guards in the room drew their swords the moment someone knocked on the door. King Richard, his face haggard and his clothes disheveled, tucked his baby son close to his chest. The infant snuggled in his father’s arms, sleeping.

“Your Majesty,” a female voice called out from behind the door.

The fear in the King’s face subsided—not gone but pushed back for the moment. “Open the door,” he ordered. The guards obeyed and an older, solidly-built woman dressed as a high-ranking servant walked into the room followed by two young nobles.

“Richard,” the noble lady said. Her brown hair was pulled back in a simple clip, exposing the gentle smattering of freckles across her wide cheekbones. Her brown eyes were warm and concerned and her husband followed, a hand on his knife belt while eyeing the guards in the room. Very few people were allowed near the royals armed, but these two were among that number.

“Nicola, Aiden, thank you for coming,” the King said. The baby squirmed in his arms and Richard’s face softened. He crooned to the baby boy and bounced him a little in his arms. Then he looked sternly at the guards in the room. “You are dismissed.” 

The captain stiffened. Richard simply waited for his order to be obeyed. After a beat the captain nodded and the guards filed out of the room. The nobles watched them leave and once the door shut turned back to the King.

“What happened?” Aiden of Locksley asked, his face tight with worry. “Is William all right?”

Richard stroked his son’s forehead. “He is for now. This time.” Richard looked at his two friends, no longer a King, just a father afraid for his son’s life. “They came closer than they ever have before.”

The baby’s face scrunched and then he started to cry, soft hiccups at first and then steady wails.

“Your Majesty,” the older servant said, holding out her arms. Richard looked at her blankly for a moment, then he realized what she was saying and he handed his son to her.

“Thank you, Lucy,” he said, rubbing his hands on his pant leg. The nurse took the baby and rocked him expertly until he quieted. She walked away from the nobles to the corner of the room, talking softly. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Richard said. “We’ve been after them since William was born, and still can’t find anything. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before they succeed, no matter what we do.”

Aiden gripped the hilt of his sword. “We will not give up Richard.”

The king looked at his baby boy. “He will never be safe here,” he said softly. Nicola and Aiden exchanged worried looks.

“This is the safest place for him,” Nicola said, approaching the King and putting her hand on his arm. “Whoever is behind these attempts can’t hide forever.”

“And we can’t be on guard forever,” Richard said. “They’ll slip past one day and my son…no. I won’t let that happen.” He drew himself up to full height, reminding his two friends of why he made such a formidable king. “If I’m to hunt these animals down, my son can’t be in the lion’s den with me.”

“And where should he be instead?” Nicola asked.

The King looked between his son and his two friends. His brow creased with worry and sorrow but he felt the pull of the inevitable and he could only resist for so long. “You two are the only other ones I would entrust him to,” Richard said. Aiden looked in surprise at his wife, who was frowning slightly. Neither of them said anything.

“Please." A king never begged but he was as close as he would ever get. "I know it is too much to ask, to put yourselves and your son at risk. But I have to ask it anyway."

“Richard," Aiden said slowly, turning over the implications of that plan in his head. "It won’t be hard for the man, or men, hunting your son—“

“Or woman,” Nicola added. 

Aiden inclined his head. “Or woman, hunting your son to guess where he went. Even if we throw off their scent now, eventually they would figure it out and William would be in the same danger. More so. Locksley isn’t a fortress Your Majesty.”

“But it would buy us some time,” Richard countered. “We just need some breathing room until we eliminate the threat.”

Aiden noticed Nicola hadn’t voiced her thoughts on the matter, and he knew his wife. She would not stay silent this long without a reason. He stepped closer to her, lightly touching the small of her back. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

She looked at him, drawn away from her planning, and leaned slightly back into his touch for a moment. Then she looked at Richard. "Do you want my honest opinion, Your Majesty?"

"You know I do," Richard said.

"I think sending your son away is a mistake. If you keep him here, under your eye, you can draw out the assassins. If you send him away, you make him more of a target and allow the potential assassins to disappear."

"You would use my son as bait?" Richard asked coldly. But Nicola only looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and resolve. 

"He is the prince. He will always be a target. At least here you have a modicum of control over the situation."

Richard shook his head and Nicola clasped her hands in front of her. “If you decide you want to pursue this course of action, I do have another idea, but it is drastic." She said, searching his face. Her own eyes were grave. "You have to be certain.”

He glanced at Lucy, who was bouncing William in her arms. Every once in a while she looked at three conspirators while William cooed. What he wouldn't give to keep his son that happy every day of his life. “Tell me.”

She nodded. “Very well. The only way to keep him truly safe is to make the world believe he is dead.”

She was met with silence. Richard clenched and unclenched his hands at his side. "I don't understand," Aiden said, but he looked thoughtful. "How would that help?"

"You were right, dear," she told him. "If Prince William disappears from the castle, it won't take long until they come for us. Even if we weren't harboring the prince, they would think we knew where he was. In fact if he were to hide with anyone, he only presents a tantalizing target. They would _know_ he was alive, away from the castle, vulnerable."

"But if they think they succeeded tonight, the danger goes away. You get the chance to find them without having to worry."

"So my choices are to make the world believe my son his dead, or place him in danger?" Richard asked her, his voice grave. Nicola waited, already guessing where he was going to go. Of course, logically, she thought what he should do. But who is to say she wouldn't act the same way if Robin were always in this kind of danger. "How do you propose accomplishing this plan?" Richard asked.

She glanced at Aiden and he nodded, slipping his hand into hers. "First we convince the castle that William is on the verge of death. Right now, people believe he is sick. We attempt to nurse him back to health for a few days and then announce his death.

“Lucy," Nicola called to the nursemaid. Lucy turned from the window, looking Nicola in the eye. Given their stations, it was a breach in decorum. But Lucy raised royalty and, frankly, Nicola was relieved by strength she saw. She knew they would need it. "This part of the plan depends on you. Would you be willing to become a part of the Locksley household?"

"I will do whatever needs to be done, my lady," Lucy said, bobbing her head. 

Nicola nodded and looked back at Richard. "If we are to avoid suspicion, I'm afraid we cannot take a ward. It would be too coincidental. However, no one will think twice if we added to our staff, and if that person just happened to have a young boy with her." She shrugged. "It would have to be fairly innocuous. But something you are skilled in."

"Why can't she keep her position as a governess?" Aiden asked.

Both Lucy and Nicola shook their heads, and Nicola smiled slightly. "It could raise to many suspicions. We already have Delilah looking after Robin, to replace her so suddenly would look strange. Besides, Robin will be too old soon for a governess, he will be learning from you and from the other masters on the land soon enough."

"Lady Locksley is right, my lord." Lucy said. "If I remember correctly your boy is almost ten? I can handle the younger ones but once they reach that age I am not suitable in that role."

"Lucy, what position do you believe you would be best suited for?" Nicola asked.

She thought for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I'm a fair cook, my lady."

"Bartley is needing more help in the kitchens," Aiden said, looking at his wife. "Adding someone there won't be strange. And if she takes that position both Lucy and William can live under our roof, where they will be safe."

"Precisely." Nicola noticed the King's grief-etched face. She placed the hand not held by her husband on the King's cheek, trying to ease some of that pain. "We will look after him, Richard."

Aiden had a fierce look in his eye when he added, "he will be as precious as our own son."

"And when you find and eliminate this threat, you can welcome him home again," she said.

Richard took her hand in his and kissed it. Then he reached out and clasped Aiden's forearm. His voice was rough when he could finally speak. "My dear friends."

"William will know his father," Aiden said. "Until the threat is passed he may not know the king, but we will ensure he knows the man." 

Richard cleared his throat and then reached up, slipping a small brown cord off of his neck. A small, women's ring glittered on the end. It was a gold band with a lioness etched in pearl on the surface, and a glimpse of flowing script on the underside. Richard handed it to Lucy. "It was his mother's wedding ring. One of a kind. If necessary, this will resolve any doubts about who my son is."

Aiden and Nicola exchanged looks, wondering at the wisdom of putting another clue as to the boy's identity out in the world. But Lucy slipped the cord over her neck and hid the ring under the collar of her dress. The set of Richard's shoulders told them this wasn't a point they should argue.

"Your Majesty, one more thing," Nicola said. "Do you trust the court physician?" 

Richard nodded. "Without reservation." 

At that moment, William began to cry again. "Then summon him. We will need him tonight."

"Guards!" Richard bellowed over the baby's cry, becoming a king once again. The door burst open and one of the men stood there, ready to jump to the king's command.

"Bring the physician here. Immediately." 

RMRMRMRMRMR

Three days later, the London bells tolled a slow, mournful sound. The news had spread like a dark storm rumbling across the plains. Little Prince William, the sole heir to the throne, had died. Succumbed to fever. Common folk and nobility alike wept for their king and the poor soul of an innocent child, though some tears were more genuine than others. 

The King wandered the palace, aimless, while pity and sympathy trailed him like a tattered cloak. How can he stand it? they whispered. To lose one's wife is heartbreak enough, but to also lose one's infant son. The courtiers and palace staff shook their heads. At least he has Aiden of Locksley, some commented. The lord and lady of Locksley, from the small but thriving backwater fief, remained by their King's side. He will need them in this trying time. Others tried to find a cause, a place to put blame, and some found it in the governess that had fled the castle. The one who let the prince fall ill, they hissed with spite. But most knew the fever and death that followed was indiscriminate in its choice of victims. Sometimes there was no one and nothing to blame. Well, then, why did she run? They asked. Grief, they answered.

When the funeral procession finally took place, the crowd in and around Westminster had never been more quiet. Children gripped their parents' hands tighter than usual and looked up with wide, frightened eyes. Even the little ones asked questions in quiet voices. The sea of mourning black and grey stood still, respectful as the casket passed by while the royal family processed after it. Some men and women in the crowd broke down when they saw how truly tiny the wooden box was. No casket should ever be that small, they wept. 

But eventually even the King's closest friends had to leave and return to their responsibilities at home. On a clear, sunny day their carriages trundled into the Locksley courtyard. Before they even came to a stop a young boy, all bare feet and grass stains, jumped from his perch in the stables into a pile of hay (despite the scolding he would get from his mother later for such dangerous feats) and sprinted towards the carts, trailing wisps of straw has he went. He bounced on his feet until the carriage doors opened, then he launched himself into the expecting arms of his parents. The young lord chattered on about his adventures while they were away, mentioning that he had met the new cook's charge who wasn't old enough to play yet but as soon as he could he was going to show him all the best hiding spaces.

And back in the cold, lonely towers of the castle of London, King Richard the Lionheart began his hunt.


	9. Warning Signs

"Your mother was right," Richard told the stricken young man in front of him. Robin flicked his eyes to the King's, his mind numb. "I came close a few times, but the assassins went underground. While they were still out there, while their employer was still out there, I couldn't bring William back. Before I realized it five years had passed and England was caught up in the Holy War.

"And my parents' death?" Robin asked softly.

Richard looked pained. "I don't know. I don't think we will ever know. But I believe they gave their lives to protect you and my son."

"I am not my parents, Your Majesty," Robin said with a tinge of bitterness. "I couldn't keep him safe."

"He is alive. When I heard about their death while I was fighting in the war I had no idea what had happened to William. And with all of the excitement when I returned I didn't have a chance to find out. When he first arrived in London with your other friends...it was all I could do not to react. At least I was prepared for facing him in the ceremony. All I ever wanted was to keep him alive. But you have also taught him about being a good man."

Robin kept his head down, forcing himself to keep what little composure he had left. His hands shook until he clasped them together. He needed to do _something_ but nothing felt like it would relieve the turmoil inside him.

He swallowed all of this down, pushed at it until he was sure it wouldn't show when he addressed the king. "I don't understand why you're telling me all of this Your Majesty," he finally said.

Richard clasped Robin’s hand. "Because I need you to bring my son home. I made a mistake all those years ago, sending William away. I need to make sure that my line is secure. That my brother doesn't get this throne." 

Robin straightened up at that last comment. "What do you mean?"

Richard gestured to Michael, who pulled out a very official looking document dripping with ribbons and glistening with wax. "To be honest with you, Robin, I'm not entirely sure. Lately I've had this feeling that I am running out of time to put things right. I know my brother would make a terrible King. We never got along, but I didn't think he was capable of treason. And yet..." he shook his head. "The battlefield taught me to listen to my instincts. I need to assure my son's succession and I need to bring him safely home. I need you for both of those tasks." 

He unrolled the parchment and Michael produce quill, ink, and sealing wax. Robin stared uncomprehending at the flowing script. “I need a witness,” Richard said. “A third party to sign my will, verifying the truth of William’s existence. You know where and who he is, and the people trust you.”

Robin skimmed the writing. “It only says Prince William. It doesn’t say where he is?” 

Richard shook his head. “I don’t want to give too much away until you get William to the palace. If the assassin is still out there and finds him first, he will be in as much danger as before and all of this would have been for nothing. But I gave Lucy the ring, which will identify him. Robin.” Robin looked at him, meeting Richard’s eyes. “Can you do this?”

His King was calling on him once again. There was only one answer he could give; the same answer his parents gave. Robin reached across the table and dipped the quill in the ink. “Where do I sign?” 

*RMRMRMRMR*

Robin edged out from behind the hidden doorway, glancing about the room to make sure he was really alone. He had waited long enough without hearing any noises to reasonably assume he was safe, but he had to be sure.

He couldn’t go back to sleep. Not yet. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night, almost tipping into morning. His whole world had shifted again and he needed to figure out how to stand in it.

It was strange, walking through the castle at night. He snatched a torch from one of the walls, using it to light his way through the empty corridors. Something about the time of night made the castle almost feel like another world. He wondered what other-worldly castles actually felt like.

Robin rounded a bend, letting his mind wander. 

“Oh!”

He collided with someone, knocking his torch to the ground. It took him a moment to piece the flash of grey cloth and dark hair into a coherent picture.

“Lucille?” Robin asked, the light flickering erratically as he picked up the fallen torch. “What are you doing here?”

She clutched her sleeping coat tighter around her waist, tilting her head. “I could ask you the same question.” When he didn’t respond she sighed, giving him a lopsided smile. “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been craving a special kind of hot chocolate ever since I arrived and I was on my way to the kitchens to make some. You are welcome to join me, if you would like.”

Robin thought about declining. He could feel the tiredness in his bones, but his mind wouldn’t settle. Perhaps it could be good to distract himself for a while. “What exactly makes it special?”

Lucille smiled and took his offered arm. “I can’t tell you that, it’s a secret. Though I might be willing to trade one secret for another. Tell me,” she said, eyeing him. “What is it that keeps Robin of Locksley up at such a late hour?”

Robin glanced sharply at her, but her face seemed so open and genuine he realized she must be teasing him. “News from a friend,” he answered. 

“Ah” she raised her eyebrows. “News is always bound to make one restless.” 

“What about you, what is keeping you awake?” Robin asked.

Lucille nudged him with her elbow. “An answer for an answer, sir. Do you want to know the secret to the world’s best hot chocolate or why I’m roaming the darkened halls during morning hours like a thief?”

“Well, when you put it that way…the second one,” he said.

“Interesting choice. Very well.” She nodded. “I can’t give you a specific answer, I’m afraid. I’m worried about my parents’ expectations for this trip, my Queen’s expectations for my future, and perhaps worst of all I cannot for the life of me remember where I put my favorite hairpins.” She grinned at him. “It really is quite distressing.”

“I can’t imagine the toll of lost hairpins,” Robin grinned. “I count myself lucky not to have to endure such pain.” 

She laughed as they finally entered the kitchens. He was surprised to see them empty. They must have arrived during that elusive time when all the previous day’s work was done and the work for the upcoming morning did not need to be started yet. He set the torch, now burned almost out, in one of the empty sconces on the wall just outside the doorway. Then he pulled out a stool while Lucille bustled about with an easy familiarity. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, tapping his fingers on his leg while he stood uselessly on the side.

“If you could start heating the milk on the stove, that would be appreciated,” she said over her shoulder. She gathered some small jars in her arms and carried them to one of the large tables. 

“How often did you do this?” Robin asked, lighting the fire underneath the milk pan.

“Quite often. At first.” Lucille admitted. She walked over to him and lightly shooed him away to take control of the drink. “My mother used to make it when I felt sad, or lonely. It was supposed to be for special occasions.” She smiled faintly, remembering. “But she always told me that when the world felt like it was at its worst, that was best time to indulge in something that gave us joy. Even the smallest candle can fight darkness. Even a cup of chocolate can make the world a little better.”

“Needless to say, I got homesick when I first arrived at the palace.” She shielded Robin’s view with her shoulder, taking some spices and mixing it in with the milk and chocolate pieces now melting into a comforting, creamy color. “I started tinkering with the recipe, and Nora, the cook, even helped me a few times.” She laughed. “Now I get homesick for this place and the spices we cannot afford at home.”

Robin leaned back against the kitchen table, placing his hands on the edge. “Your mother sounds nice.”

Lucille nodded. “You’ll have to meet her someday and see for yourself. Here,” she ladled out her creation and handed him a mug. “What do you think?”

He blew on the contents then took a careful sip, conscious of her scrutiny. The sweetness surprised him, and immediately made him think of the comfort of a fire on a cold winter day. “It’s good!” 

She grinned in triumph and then poured out some for herself. “I told you, world famous.” Lucille sipped and closed her eyes, savoring the drink with delight. Then she perched herself on a stool and faced him. “What about you? Do you have any special meals from your childhood?”

He shook his head. “I don’t really remember that much, to be honest. Though,” he paused, frowning as a memory came to him. “In autumn, my parents used to take me into the forest. We would pick wild apples and then spend the next day making candied apples. The whole house smelled of sugar and syrup and no one ever cared when we got sticky making them.”

“Maybe now you could do that again,” she suggested, sipping her own chocolate. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Memories were fragile things. He wasn’t quite ready to risk that one.

Instead, he veered the conversation to other topics. They chatted about her time as a Queen’s Lady and he talked about what it was like to live in Sherwood. The chocolate cooled while they spoke.

“And Alan, of course,” both he and Lucille were laughing, “decides to go up and try to ride Sky for the _fourth_ time—“

A scream rang through the quiet halls. Lucille jumped off the stool and Robin froze. They looked at each other and immediately ran towards the noise, abandoning their empty mugs next to the stove. 

“Help! Somebody help!” 

They dashed up the stairs, Robin following Lucille’s lead. She knew the palace better than almost everyone and seemed to know where the cries were coming from. They entered the servant’s quarters. Already doors were opening and faces peered out in confusion. 

Lucille’s skirts flared as she rounded a corner. Robin was in lock-step behind her. The moment he turned the corner he saw a small crowd gathered outside of a door. People were murmuring, some had their hands over their moths.

“Move!” Lucille ordered. She pushed her way through and didn’t even pause before rushing to the sobbing woman on the floor. The other woman on the bed stared blankly at the ceiling. Her skin looked grey and her eyes bloodshot. Blood had crusted around her mouth..

“I told her to go to sleep early,” the woman on the floor said through great, hiccupping sobs. She clung to Lucille with everything she had and Lucille rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, and met Robin’s eye over the woman’s shoulder. “She said she wasn’t feeling well, but how could….how could this happen?”

“Make way, make way.” 

Robin turned and saw Jeremiah pushing his way through the crowd of people. He was impeccably dressed, even this early in the morning. “What are you doing here?” Robin asked.

Jeremiah ignored him and went to examine the dead woman, expressing just the right amount of sorrow to balance out his efficiency. 

“Are you a physician as well, my lord?” Lucille asked.

“Not officially, no,” he answered her, continuing to ignore Robin. “But I’m afraid I have seen this illness before. It’s a type of influenza, very contagious and it kills quickly.” 

The people at the door started chattering loudly and backed away. The woman in Lucille’s arms simply shuddered and continued to cry. 

“We need to lock the castle down,” Jeremiah said, his voice carrying. Robin felt the air sharpen with fear. 

“Hold on,” Robin said, snagging Jeremiah by the arm. He lowered his voice but it didn’t lose any intensity, “lock it down? We can’t quarantine the entire castle, you’ll start a panic.” 

Jeremiah looked gravely at him, but Robin sensed something underneath the expression, like a crack in a mask. “We must if we are to keep the disease from spreading to the populace. Now, I must inform the guards.” Jeremiah raised an eyebrow pointedly at Robin’s hand and Robin eventually released him. 

“You don’t have authority over the guards.”

“I do now. Since the royal physician has no experience with this, I am the only one here who knows what he is doing.” 

“You know this, how?” Robin asked.

Lucille stood before Jeremiah answered, gently extricating herself from the mourning woman. “Will this quarantine work?” 

“It will stop the spread, my lady. But I’m afraid the poor woman won’t be the last of the casualties. You can’t save everyone, I’m afraid.”

The way that last phrase sounded with Jeremiah’s accent stopped Robin cold. “What did you say?” he whispered. Lucille glanced quickly at Robin.

“You can’t save everyone.”

Robin turned the words over in his head, putting the connections together and remembering when someone else had once said the same phrase to him, what felt like a lifetime ago.

He looked at Jeremiah, as if he saw a new person. “I can try.”

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you make yourself comfortable, Lord Locksley. No one will be going anywhere until this sickness is burned out.” With that, he turned and ordered the spectators back to their rooms. He started handing out orders to the pages milling about. Within minutes, word of what had happened was spreading through the castle like the disease itself. 

Robin was trapped.


	10. The Paths We Take

Marian sat at the end of one of the long tables, picking at the remains of her supper. She soaked in the loud, happy chatter of Rangers in full celebration with a gentle smile. They had set up torches around the mess area and the firelight flickered and danced around the clearing. Rangers stood in small, scattered groups around the clearing. Some were talking amiably, others were holding more animated conversations and a few had started some games closer to the edge of the clearing. If she tried, Marian could still detect an undercurrent of tension from the events of the past few days. But it was the closing evening of the Gathering and most everyone was trying to keep up good spirits. 

A burst of voices rose in the air and she looked over to one of the groups playing games. Some people were groaning good-naturedly at their loss, others were cheering. Owen caught her eye and waved her over. “Marian, we’re up!” 

Marian popped in the last piece of her food and clambered over the bench. When she arrived at the circle of people, Owen stood across from her and their two opponents placed themselves on the other side. A few spectators surrounded them and shouted out either friendly support or trash talk, depending on who they wanted to win. Marian’s opponents produced a small cloth ball, filled with sand, and kicked it into the air. One by one they passed it around the circle, using anything but their hands. The cheers and heckling got louder with every daring save and sneaky pass and, for a bit, Marian could forget the stresses of the past few days and have a little fun.

A piercing whistle eventually stopped the games and most conversations. The assembled Rangers looked towards the front of the clearing where Gilan stood. He picked up the torch next to him, a signal for the other Rangers to do the same.

Rangers who had been assigned to carry the torches picked them up and carried them to the circle that was forming. The rest grabbed their cups, making sure to top them off before they made their way to the circle. Marian made her way to stand next to Will while Halt stood on his other side, next to Gilan. Masters and apprentices formed up together with burning torches. A reverent silence descended on the glade. Behind them stood empty chairs and empty tables shadowed by the night, the firelight barely illuminating the first row of tables. But here, in this circle, the light burned brightly.

"Carter," Gilan said as he doused his torch. 

"Darian." Owen snuffed his own torch, his face mournful, and turned to the next torch bearer.

Around the circle they went, speaking the names of the ones they had lost since the last Gathering as their torches went dark for the last time. The torches would hold up the saplings planted to mark their passing, until the forest took them into its depths. Will squeezed her shoulder gently as voices spoke around the circle. 

There were too many names this year.

When the final name was spoken and the Rangers stood under the stars in a shadowed glade, Gilan raised his cup. "Safe travels, brothers."

"Safe travels," Marian murmured in response, her voice mingling with the other Rangers. Then they drank, a toast to their friends who had died and to their friends still living. It was a simple prayer, but that was how Rangers liked it.

With the Gathering officially ended, the group began to disperse, each Ranger going back to their respective tents. She heard a soft hum of conversation start up again, but not enough to disturb the solemnity. Many would stay up tonight and chat by their own campfires, reminiscing about their friends and the old days, and go their separate ways in the morning.

She caught Owen and Christopher as the departing Ranger's swirled around her. "Ranger Lark,” she smiled at Owen. “Try not to mess up this first year too badly.”

"Thanks for that," he muttered, looking with some slight confusion at the gleaming silver oakleaf on his chest. "You’re right behind me, you know."

Her stomach flipped a little and she shook her head. "Don't remind me. I’m counting on you to take notes. Christopher, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I doubt you'll need it, but we're here just in case."

He held out his hand and she shook it, then she gave Owen a quick hug. "I'll see you two around." 

"Marian, wait." Owen touched her arm softly. "This thing with Bryan-" 

She tried to smile. "It's all right, it's over now." 

Owen frowned. "Just, keep your guard up, okay? And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me." 

Marian squeezed his hand. "Thank you. Now go, enjoy your new post." She waved, and then followed Will and Halt back to their tents. She saw the dark outlines of their figures sitting next to the fire, and was glad the night wasn't quite over. The sun would rise tomorrow and the real world beckoned. But maybe she could hold it off just a little bit longer.

RMRMRMRMRMRMR 

Bryan sat at the barstool, watching with disgust as his mentor— _no, former mentor_ , he thought—washed down another pint of ale. Nolan hadn’t spoken more than a few words to him since they had left the Gathering Grounds. Instead, they would find an inn to stay in, even if they had a little less than half the day to travel, and Nolan would drink. Bryan wished he could buy some as well, but even a Ranger deep in his cups was vigilant enough not to let the bartenders accommodate him. Besides, who else would get Nolan up in the mornings when he was suffering from a hangover? 

He wanted to smash the mug against the bar counter. Bryan clenched his fists together, feeling the burning pit of anger in his gut. _It just wasn’t fair!_ He screamed in his head, while his mentor continued to ignore him. The man was useless. He hadn't stood up for him at all during that sham trial, and now he was just giving in to the exile of his apprentice without any conflict whatsoever. In fact, they were all weak! 

How could that stupid girl have turned even Antony against him? In the end, everyone had been against him but he had been the only one with the courage and fix the mistake the Rangers had made in the first place. 

He hated the feeling of the missing medallion on his chest and he knew it was all her fault. But what could he do now? She had managed to get him kicked out of the Corps, disgraced. He couldn’t go back to his family; he knew how it would go. His father would stick up for him but it wouldn’t go anywhere because Marian had the Commandant, Will Treaty, and by extension the Queen, wrapped around her finger.

"You're friend there seems to be enjoying himself.” 

Bryan looked up as an older man sat down on a barstool next to him and signaled for a drink. “Yeah, I guess,” Bryan mumbled. 

“I have to admit, I noticed you and your friend a couple of towns ago," the man said. 

"You've been following us?" Bryan's hand inched towards his dagger. He stopped when the stranger smirked. 

"Easy. Our groups just happen to be traveling in the same direction and there aren't that many places to get a somewhat decent drink. But it was your cloak that caught my eye,” he added. “I’ve been looking for someone else who wears something like it. Maybe you can help me?”

“Look, I don’t know what your deal is,” Bryan snapped. The cloak didn’t belong to him anymore; he was wearing it on borrowed time. Nolan didn’t have the spine to take it away from him. But it may just be worse having everyone assume he was a Ranger when he wasn’t. Not anymore. “You should leave.” 

The man ignored him. “You see, she and I were acquainted a while back and I would very much like to meet up with her again.”

Bryan cursed to himself. Would he never be free of her? Out in the middle of nowhere and still someone from her fan club managed to corner him. “No,” he answered. “I can’t help you.”

The man looked disappointed. “Shame. I've been trying so long to get back what she took from me," he muttered. 

That made Bryan perk up, but before he could say anything the man threw a couple of coins on the bar countertop. "Thank you all the same." He pushed to stool back and stood up to leave. 

“Wait!” Bryan said. The man turned and raised an eyebrow. “What did you mean by that?” 

“Well…” the man shook his head. “Ah, never mind. I doubt you could help.”

“You’re talking about Marian Harwood, right?”

The man crossed his arms, considering Bryan. “And if I was?”

Bryan looked over at Nolan, who’s head was already bobbing towards an alcohol-induced stupor. Did he really want to go back to his family, tail between his legs? He hated that no one was paying attention to the disgraced apprentice. But now... 

“I can help you,” Bryan said.

"You think so?" the man asked. "Well, tell me where to find her." 

"It's not that simple. She's too well protected. You'll need me." 

Next to them, Nolan made a noise and Bryan flinched. The stranger noticed and raised his eyebrows. "I'm not as confident in your aid as you seem to be. But," he eyed Bryan. "Why don't you figure out this situation of yours, and then maybe we can talk. I'll be traveling north in the morning. If you can catch up to us, we'll see how you can help." He held out his hand. "Duval." 

“Bryan Corpin,” he said, shaking Duval’s hand. "You won't regret this. 

“That remains to be seen." 

Duval walked out of the pub, signaling to the men traveling with him, satisfied. His spies hadn't been able to get very close, at all, to know exactly what had happened with all those Rangers. But it was enough to know that Bryan would have a grudge. Recruiting him had almost been to easy. 

RMRMRMRMRMRMR 

The next morning, it took Nolan a few minutes to remember where he was after waking up. His head was pounding and his tongue felt swollen and fuzzy. The room spun when he sat up in bed, still in yesterday’s clothes. Then he remembered: he was at a run-down pub in the middle of the countryside because his apprentice had been kicked out of the Ranger Corps. He wanted another drink.

Nolan looked for Bryan and frowned when he saw a folded piece of parchment on the already made bed. He reached across the space between the beds and snatched the paper, groaning as his neck sent a twinge of pain down his body.

_Went home. It’s easier this way. Sorry_

_-Bryan_

The Ranger let the paper slip from his fingers. Technically, he should go after the boy. Bryan still had the cloak and the medallion, which no longer belonged to him. But everyone expected Nolan to take him home anyway, and if he still reported the Ranger supplies returned…what would be the harm? A small untruth would save everyone even more embarrassment and headache. Nolan told himself he would follow up later, to make sure Bryan made it home. But for today he decided to go back downstairs and get another drink.


	11. Where There's Smoke

Marian cinched the girth on Sky’s saddle just as the sun finished cresting the horizon. Sky stomped her back foot and snorted. _Are we ready yet?_

Marian smiled. She could feel the energy in the morning air, too; just a little taste of the end of summer. But for the first time in a while she felt unburdened. She felt free. 

“Almost, girl. Then what do you say we leave these boys in the dust for a little bit?”

Sky tossed her head in agreement and Marian laughed. 

“What are you two conspiring about now?” Will asked, leading Tug up next to them. The last of their saddlebags were packed and the campsite looked as if it had never existed. Marian raised her eyebrows innocently, then swung into Sky’s saddle.

“We’ve been on the road four weeks, what could we possibly conspire about?” She said pointedly. 

Will pursed his lips and eyed her suspiciously, then he followed suit and soon they were both settled on their ponies. Before Tug took a step, Marian spurred Sky to a gallop. “See you in a bit!” she called, racing away.

Tug snorted, almost as if he was laughing. Will sighed and nudged Tug into a steady walk. 

“Unless you want to chase after them?” Will asked. Tug flicked his tail and Will nodded. “I thought not.”

RMRMRMRMRMR

Marian whooped as her cloak streamed behind her. Sky was running so fast all Marian could think about was the wind stinging her cheeks and the thunder of hooves beneath her. If she closed her eyes, it felt like in only a few more moments they would by flying.

Eventually, breathless and in high spirits, she slowed Sky to a mild canter, then to a walk. Tug and Will were no longer in sight and open plains stretched before them. The wind rustled the dry grass, sounding a little like rain. Marian closed her eyes and breathed. When she opened them again, Sky had crested one of the gentle hills. She could see for miles and relished the feeling of being small, natural speck on the surface of the world. 

As she scanned the horizon, Marian noticed a group of figures nestled on the side of the road around a campfire. Smoke curled into the morning air and the unrestrained laughter of children caught her ears. She kicked Sky forward and approached them at a trot. They looked up as Marian came into view and she raised her hand in greeting. 

“Good morning,” she said, pushing her hood back. “Easy journey?”

The family, a husband, wife and two daughters, froze as she spoke to them. The two parents exchanged worried glances and the children moved closer to their mother.

“Easy enough lady Ranger, thank you,” the father said stiffly. 

Marian frowned at their apprehension. It seemed different, somehow, from the usual reservation all Rangers faced from travelers on the road. “May I ask where you are headed?”

Panic flashed across the wife’s face. The two children looked between their parents, sensing something was wrong. The father angled his body between her and them. “Please, Ranger. We don’t know anything. We’re just trying to travel in peace.”

“Sir, if you’re in trouble…”

“No, no trouble,” he cut her off. Marian noticed the woman tighten her grip on her husband’s arm. 

Will always said there were times when she should press and there were times when she should sit back. Something the man had said struck her as odd but she wasn’t sure what it was, and he was too on edge for her to gather anything useful. 

“Very well,” she nodded. The relief that flickered through their eyes worried her. “I wish you safe travels.” 

She nudged Sky onward, the feeling of freedom from this morning hampered somewhat by the encounter. When she and Sky were out of view of the camped family they stopped. Maybe it was time to let Will catch up. 

When Will and Tug finally found them, Marian was dozing against Sky’s legs. Then Sky nudged her awake and she was on her feet, facing Will’s teasing grin. “Long day?”

“You were so slow, we got bored,” she grinned. Will inclined his head.

“Well, we certainly can’t have that. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t get bored again anytime soon.” Marian groaned good-naturedly. She should have realized that getting caught dozing was an excuse for him to give her even more work. 

“Will,” she said, settling into the saddle. Will looked at her, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Did you pass a family back there? Camped by the side of the road?”

Will shook his head slowly, thinking. “No, but I did pass a campsite. It looked like whoever was there left in a hurry. Why do you ask?”

Marian wove the reins between her fingers. “I’m not sure. I passed the family that was camped there. They seemed almost scared of me.”

“You know how many of local villagers feel about us,” Will reassured her. The steady clop of their ponies’ hooves provided a steady backdrop to their musings. “And with reports of all these raids we’re investigating now, even the most pragmatic of people are bound to be a little wary.”

Marian shook her head. “This was different.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “What do you think we should do?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I don’t even know what exactly is bothering me about. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about,” Will said sternly. “A Ranger has to rely on her instincts and you have good ones. Listen to them.” He reached across the space to pat her knee. “If you think we should do something we will. But I bet this is just a passing concern.”

Marian nodded and vowed to put it out of her mind. They had enough to worry about right now without paranoia getting in the way. Will was right, it was probably nothing anyway.

RMRMRMRMRMR

The Rangers led their ponies through the winding roads of the small city sprawled below Hogarth Keep. Will said they had to stop here on their journey through the fief to keep the Ranger assigned here, and by extension the lord, apprised of any information Will and Marian had gathered during their time on the road. It wasn’t long after they left the Gathering that they came across multiple reports of raids, and empty villages to back those reports up. Marian thought it all seemed coordinated but Will wasn’t convinced yet. He wanted to get another Ranger’s insight and normally Marian would agree. The only problem is that the Ranger assigned to Hogarth fief was Antony.

But even the prospect of dealing with Ranger Antony couldn’t dampen her excitement for a warm bath, the first real comfort she will have had in weeks. 

Moving through the crowd was easier than expected. People tended to give anyone with a mottled cloak plenty of room. But this time Marian noticed their eyes linger. They whispered. The buzz that followed them felt angry.

“Will,” she murmured, moving closer to her mentor. They were shielded on either side by Tug and Sky. 

“I know.” He surveyed the crowd around them, alert and, to Marian’s keen eyes, on edge. “I feel it too.”

“What do you think it is?” she asked.

He shook his head. Tug and Sky seemed to pick up on their concerns, moving closer to their masters and pricking their ears forward. “I don’t know. But we need to find out.” Will picked up the pace, making their way to the keep’s gates more quickly than expected. They were admitted without any problems, though Marian thought she noticed some tension in the guards.

Marian gave Sky’s reins to one of the stablehands. The pony butted her head against Marian’s side. _Don’t leave_.

“We have to, girl,” Marian said, rubbing her forehead affectionately. “We won’t be long. Just be good, okay?”

Sky nickered and allowed herself to be led away, though she seemed to throw one more reproving look over her withers on the way to the stable. 

“Will.”

Both Marian and Will turned around and saw Ranger Antony striding across the courtyard to greet them. He was in full uniform and his face was as impassive as ever. He didn’t spare any glance for Marian. 

“Antony,” Will said, reaching out to shake the other Ranger’s hand. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon after the Gathering, but I thought we should make a stop on our way through. Has something happened in Hogarth? The town seemed a little on edge on our way here.”

Antony paused, finally glancing over at Marian. “Please, follow me. Lord Godwin is waiting for you.”

Marian would’ve snorted at his lack of answer if she had been alone and certain no one could hear her. But right now, she had to be on her best, most professional behavior. She trailed behind Will and Antony, taking in the simple and austere appearance of the keep. It wasn’t built for looks, but for function. Lord Godwin had been one of the few unperturbed by Jeren’s rebellion, knowing he had the means to withstand assault for a long while.

Antony led them to an upper level of the keep, stopping at a small office room. Lord Godwin was there, sitting across from a man whose back was to them. Godwin glanced up when they walked in and waved them closer. As Antony moved around the desk to stand next to Goodwin, a frown flickered across Will’s face. 

The man Godwin was talking to turned around in his chair and Marian paused for a just a moment. He was tall, heavily muscled and sported a full blonde beard. She met his stare and something tugged at her memory. 

“Ranger Treaty, Apprentice Harwood. Welcome,” Lord Godwin said, drawing Marian’s attention away before the memory could come forward. 

Will inclined his head. “Lord Godwin. Ranger Radlin here says you’ve been waiting for us?”

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Can I offer you any refreshment? You’ve clearly been traveling in,” he sniffed, eyeing the mud on their boots. “Less than ideal conditions.”

Marian gave him a brittle smile but Will’s hand settled on her shoulder before she could respond unwisely.

“Refreshments would be welcome,” he said. 

“It must be difficult, traveling for so long without any civilized lodging,” Godwin said, addressing Marian directly. “It must take a toll, on both the mind and body.”

She breathed through her nose before answering. “I manage,” she said.

“Still,” Godwin smiled as one of his pages brought in a tray of tea. Marian wondered if he purposely refused to serve coffee or just forgot. Marian knew the expense wasn’t a problem for someone like Godwin. “I can’t image any of my daughters having to endure such conditions.” 

“I’m sure they can endure more than you give them credit for,” Marian said.

Godwin’s smile faltered for a moment. Then it turned even more patronizing than before. “How optimistic of you. Well, I for, one, am grateful your theory has not been tested.”

 _Oh, I’m sure it’s been tested_ , Marian thought savagely. But she caught Will’s warning look and held her tongue.

“Lord Godwin, Marian and I have been investigating reports of increased gang activity around the area,” Will said, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Has Hogarth suffered any attacks lately?”

“No, nothing of the sort. Though we have heard such rumors,” Godwin said. “Everyone is perfectly safe here.”

“Really? Do your people feel that way?” Marian asked. “It didn’t seem like they did when we arrived.”

Godwin smiled again, but this time it was more than simply patronizing. It was almost triumphant.

“It’s funny you should ask that, my dear. It’s not the gangs that has me and my people worried.” He looked at Will. “Ranger Treaty, have you been aware of your apprentice’s whereabouts these past few weeks?”

Will paused for a moment and Marian felt the first stirrings of apprehension. “Marian? She’s been with me, of course. What is this about?” He directed that last question at Antony, but the other Ranger simply stood there, impassive.

Godwin tilted his head. “She may have been travelling with you. But has she been in your sight the entire time? At night?” 

“At night we typically sleep,” Will responded, his voice brittle. Godwin nodded, as if Will’s response confirmed something for him.

“I was afraid of that. I don’t blame you of course, Ranger Treaty. It was always a gamble, to have someone like her in the Corps. You never know when they can snap.” Godwin reached behind him and pulled a cord. Marian couldn’t see whether anything happened, but her hand drifted to her weapons belt anyway. “You see, I have been receiving reports of a female Ranger breaking into people’s homes in the dead of night and attacking them, going so far as to torture them,” he paused on the word ‘torture,’ his eyes boring into Marian. “All while searching for any information on someone called the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

Marian froze. _How could he know that name?_

The door behind them slammed open and Marian turned, her brain scrambling to catch up. Her hand closed on her weapon but she wasn’t fast enough. Soldiers streamed in to the room, crowding everyone close and making it impossible for Will or Marian to move. Sharpened metal faced her on all sides. 

Will put his arm in front of Marian. “What are you doing?” he growled. 

“These reports have come to me from Terris, Aven, Lametich, and Cormin. All essentially the same, all when she was likely not under your supervision.” Hands snatched her away from Will and a swift kick forced Marian to her knees. She cried out in surprise. Will looked at her in fear but was stopped from coming to her aid by the bristling ring swords. Ropes pinched her skin as soldiers tied her hands behind her back. 

Part of her wanted to fight back. But it was like she was watching the scene from outside herself. Marian didn’t understand what had gone so wrong.

Godwin straightened, savoring the power he was holding over two of the most famous Rangers in the kingdom. “You may be the Queen’s officers. But you are not above the law. If Will Treaty is unable to hold his apprentice accountable, then I will.” He signaled the guards and they dragged Marian to her feet.

“Will,” she pleaded, stumbling as they dragged her from the room. “Will!” The last thing she saw before they took her from the room was Will’s face, uncertain and—for the first time in her apprenticeship—afraid.

RMRMRMRMRMR

Once Marian was gone, the guards put their weapons away. Will settled his breathing and composed his expression before turning around. He couldn’t let Godwin see how angry and scared he was. 

“You’ve made a mistake,” Will said. His voice was low and dangerous and Godwin felt a moment of fear for himself. But he quickly quashed it. 

“The evidence doesn’t lie, Will,” Antony finally spoke. 

“You don’t get to speak!” Will failed to keep his anger in check this time and Antony blinked.

“We have an eye-witness and multiple reports of a woman in a Ranger cloak attacking families.” Antony pressed on, gesturing to the stranger in the room that Will had forgotten about. Antony raised an eyebrow. “You were more than willing to believe an eye witness when it was Marian making the accusation against someone else.” 

“Except _she_ would never do something like that.”

Godwin made a calming gesture, looking sympathetic. “I wish I didn’t have to do this Ranger Treaty, believe me. Please, if you sit down we will explain.” He signaled to the witness, who had been watching the exchange warily. The man clutched a worn and formless hat in his hands, bobbing his head towards Will. Antony remained standing behind Godwin.

Will’s first reaction was to refuse. He wanted to find Marian and get them both away from this keep. But instinct told him he was going to need all the information he could get in order to face this. He nodded curtly and crossed his arms, but declined the offered chair. 

Godwin sighed. “Go ahead, Brutus. Tell Ranger Treaty what you told me and Antony.”

Will turned to the stranger as he began speaking. “Thank you m’lord. Ranger,” he said. His eyes darted nervously between the Ranger and the noble. “Well sirs, I’m from Cormin. We heard about the Rangers’ arrival there but I told my girls not to go lookin’. You see, we had heard some things from the other villages and, if you please, I don’t much like the things you Rangers can do.”

Brutus paused, trying to gauge Will’s response. He was met with a stony expression. Brutus swallowed hard. “But the second night of your arrival, after the house was asleep, a noise woke me up. And she was right there, at the end of our bed. At–at first it was just a person with a cloak like yours, sir and a leaf necklace. Then she showed her face and it was her, the one that came in with you. At first, she was just askin’ questions, but I didn’t know the answers. Then she got angry. She hit my wife, and gave me this when I didn’t answer.” Brutus pulled at the collar of his shirt and Will’s jaw clenched at the ugly slash starting at his neck and disappearing down his shirt. “She kept askin’ about this ‘sheriff’ but I still didn’t know. She cut off my wife’s finger when I didn’t answer a second time.” His voice had dropped to a strained whisper and Will noticed Antony’s glare. “When I still couldn’t give her what she wanted, she finally left. I couldn’t let her do this to someone else, not after the stories I heard from the other towns. So I came here.”

Will shook his head slowly. “That’s not possible.” 

“You said yourself you can’t account for her whereabouts at all times.” Antony snapped. “A woman, with a Ranger cloak and an oakleaf medallion. There is only one possible person that could be doing this!”

“There is more, I’m afraid,” Godwin said solemnly. He pushed papers towards Will, who takes them in his hands. He leafed through the reports, noticing the different signatures at the bottom. “These are citizens who have come forward with similar stories. As you can see, there are quite a few.”

Will’s heart sank as he read through the reports. He knew she had trouble adjusting after her return from England. He knew she disagreed with the Queen’s and the Rangers’ decision to leave the Sheriff of Nottingham problem alone for the moment. And he didn’t want to admit it, but Antony was right, more than he even knew. Not only was she the only woman in possession of a Ranger cloak and medallion, but no one else present knew who the Sheriff of Nottingham even was. The evidence looked insurmountable and the more he read, the more he failed to come up with an alternative explanation. But he couldn’t let his growing doubt show in front of these men because he knew they would latch on to it. What he needed was time. He looked up at Lord Godwin, ignoring Antony and Brutus altogether. 

“You may have the authority over your own fief, but you do not have the authority to detain a Queen’s Ranger. You certainly do not have the authority to determine guilt and sentencing.” He paused to collect himself. “Marian and I will both return to Castle Araluen.”

“Ranger, I’m afraid I can’t grant that request,” Godwin said. He paled a little under Will’s glare, but he didn’t break. He did, however, re-phrase what he was going to say. “If you leave with your apprentice how will the rest of us ensure that justice has been done?”

Will pressed his hands against the edge of Godwin’s desk. He felt the soldiers in the room shift, or maybe it was simply the rise in tension. “Are you saying I won’t obey the law?”

Godwin quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Not at all, Ranger Treaty. I am only trying to assure that justice will be done.”

Before Will could explain in detail exactly what assurance he was going to give Lord Godwin, Antony stepped in again. “I can accompany the two of them.”

Will’s attention turned to the other Ranger. His mind whirled, trying to figure out just what game the man was playing. Lord Godwin’s smile was brittle. “Thank you for offering Ranger Radlin. But as I’m sure you can see, my concern still stands. I’m afraid leaving this matter solely to the discretion of the Ranger Corps when it is one of your own who is in in trouble…” Godwin shrugged. “You can see the potential conflict.” 

“I can,” Antony inclined his head. Will clenched his jaw but remained silent while Antony continued. “I would suggest, in that case, if you do not want to travel yourself, you send along someone you trust from your own household. This way, you’ll be certain to maintain an interest.”

“And turn our party into a criminal transport?” Will asked.

Godwin was silent for a moment. He looked almost trapped, but slowly nodded. “I can see that Ranger Radlin has a good solution,” Godwin said. “I will allow her to leave under those conditions.” Will started to protest, but Godwin raised his hand. “Either that, or Miss Harwood stays in her cell.”

“ _Ranger_ Harwood,” Will said coldly. He knew if he left her here, Godwin would take it upon himself to conduct Marian’s trial and he had no doubt she would be convicted. He was not about to let that happen, which meant he was going to have to concede this round. 

“Very well. We will be leaving first thing in the morning.” Will looked directly at Antony. “I expect you to be ready.”

He didn’t wait for either man to acknowledge his statement. He turned to one of the remaining soldiers in the room. “Take me to Marian. Now.”

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Marian slammed her fists against the solid oak door in frustration. She knew it did no good, but she didn’t care. She didn’t know where Will was or what was happening to him. She didn’t know what was coming next. She had been taken by surprise and left completely in the dark. And she hated it.

 _At least they left my cloak and medallion_ , she thought wryly. One guard attempted to take them away from her when they stripped her of her weapons. He had paid dearly for it and no one else tried. Whatever they accused her of, she was still a Ranger and she wasn’t about to just give up the things that made her one. 

Marian looked around the empty room in despair. She saw hardwood floors, the tiny privy in the corner and the single window behind her. The privy was a glorified bucket with a screen to maintain the idea of privacy, and the window was more of an air vent than an actual window. But at least she had light. 

She moved to the window, pressing her face to the wall in order to get a glimpse of the outdoors and breathe in the fresh air. _Think!_ Marian scolded herself. She had to calm down, figure out what had happened and why. But the only explanation that kept popping uninvited into her mind was one she didn’t want to contemplate at the moment. So instead she forced her mind to focus on the first, and very necessary, step: getting out of this room.

Marian heard someone unlocking the door and she turned, easing into a fighting-ready stance. When Will entered, followed by a flustered young guard, some of her apprehension she had been ignoring vanished. “Will!”

He smiled at her, but there was a tension in his eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She stopped on her way to give him a hug, wrapping her arms around herself instead. Something was wrong. “I’m fine. Just confused. What is going on?”

He handed her the papers Godwin had given him. “A man came in, saying that a young woman in a Ranger cloak with an oakleaf medallion broke into his home, attacked him and his wife, looking for information on the Sheriff of Nottingham. These,” he gestured to the papers in her hand, “are reports from other townspeople saying essentially the same thing. He had a wound Marian, a fresh one.”

She flicked her eyes up at Will, before reading through the papers. With each report her frown deepened. “Who would do these things?” she muttered. It took a few moments of strained silence before Marian looked up at Will, the reports forgotten in her hands. 

“Who do you think would do this Will?” she asked slowly.

“I don’t know.” 

Marian took a step back, staring at him. “You actually think this was me?” she whispered. Will tried to protest, his expression mournful. But she shoved the papers back into his hands. “How could you possibly think that?!”

Will caught the papers. “I don’t think it was you!” he protested. “I would never. It’s just that--“

“Just what?”

He spread his hands wide, helplessly. “They have a lot of evidence Marian. Evidence that can only possibly point to you. This only happened at night, when we weren’t in each other’s company. And who else would know about the Sheriff of Nottingham? All I’m saying is it’s going to be difficult to come up with another explanation. But that doesn’t mean I think you did these things.” The look she was giving him broke his heart, as if she was falling apart right in front of him.

Marian had another explanation. But for the first time ever, she didn’t feel like she could tell him what she was thinking. If he doubted her, then she was truly on her own.

“So what now?” she asked, her voice strained. She refused to give in to the tears threatening to form behind her eyes.

“We’re going to Araluen. Antony and Godwin, or someone from his household, will escort us,” Will said. He tried to keep his voice steady, pretending to ignore the way her eyes glistened. 

“Right, because I can’t be trusted.” It came out sharper than she intended, but she pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t take it back.

Will ran a hand through his hair. “Marian, that’s not—“

“You should get going,” she interrupted. “You probably have a lot to do to get ready for the trip.”

Will half nodded. He wanted to say something more, to comfort her, or reassure her. But he didn’t know how. Will sighed and turned away, pausing once at the doorway, but Marian refused to look at him. She waited until the door was locked and she was alone. Only then did she let herself cry.


	12. There's Fire

“This is ridiculous,” Marian growled under her breath. She refused to wince as Antony cinched the ropes tight on her wrists. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere!”

“No, you’re not.” Antony said. His face revealed nothing, and Marian glared at him. “I’ll be keeping your weapons.”

“ _I’ll_ be keeping her weapons,” Will spoke up from behind Antony. The older Ranger turned around, ready to argue, but Will spoke first. “Unless you want to accuse me of something as well?” 

Antony might have taken him up on the offer, but Will’s steely gaze helped him reconsider that decision. Instead, Antony shoved the weapons into Will’s arms and walked away to his own horse. Marian ignored Will’s glance as he passed by her.

They were waiting outside the keep’s gates for Godwin’s man but all the horses were riderless. Antony insisted they walk through the town and only start riding once they reached the open road. Sky was tethered to Tug’s pack, flicking her ears back and forth and shifting on her feet.

Marian patted Sky’s neck. “It’s okay girl,” she whispered. 

The pony lipped at Marian’s restraints. _What kind of trouble are you in?_

“I don’t know.” Marian rubbed Sky’s forehead as much as she could with her bound wrists. “But we’re going to figure it out.” She glanced over at Will, now that his attention was elsewhere then added quietly, “at least, I hope so.”

Sky snorted. _I’ll help._ Marian smiled and kissed her muzzle.

There was a flurry of activity at the gates and Marian watched as Lord Godwin himself came to meet them. He was dressed for travel but only two guards accompanied him. Antony bowed slightly but Will and Marian simply stared in surprise.

Godwin nodded at them. “Are we ready?” He didn’t wait for a response. Rather, he pushed to the head of their small group and started walking. Antony held out his arm for Marian and Will to follow, then took up the rear.

Their procession was more conspicuous than Marian cared for, but at least it was easy to keep her bound hands out of view. Even that small mercy didn’t keep the townspeople from staring. It seems Godwin’s accusation wasn’t a secret.

As they walked, people congregated on the edges of the street. They cleared a path for Godwin, and stayed as the Rangers passed them. She heard their murmurs with their dark undertones and Marian’s cheeks burned. It would have been easy to hide behind Sky, but she forced herself to look ahead. She wasn’t guilty of anything and they weren’t going to make her act like it.

Despite her resolve, she couldn’t quite face the anger in the people’s eyes. So she never looking at one person too long. The crowd was a jumbled blur of faces and color and her eyes would briefly snag on one person before landing on another. 

The line of spectators was never ending. Marian skimmed their faces, her brain filing away details and characteristics like it was trained to do, when she stumbled. She recognized someone.

“No,” she whispered, failing to quash the fear that spiked through her as she searched for the face that had triggered her memory. _No, please. Not here._

She found him. The Sheriff of Nottingham stood in the crowd, watching. He smiled slowly when Marian's eyes found his. He held her gaze for a moment while she stared, frozen and inclined his head without breaking eye contact. Then he turned and she lost sight of him in the crowd.

Marian didn’t care that she was technically a prisoner. He wasn’t slipping through her fingers again. She took off after him, her bound hands barely slowing her down. She ignored the shouts behind her, zeroing in on the Sheriff’s fleeing form. She shoved townspeople out of the way, stumbling over their feet. When she rounded the corner of a shop building, she barely caught a glimpse of his cloak disappearing down the block.

She sprinted down the street. Her desperation overrode her training and her instincts. When she emerged from the alley, she saw people going about their daily tasks but nothing that pointed her in the direction the Sheriff had gone. 

Marian wanted to scream in frustration. It was going to be almost impossible to find him now, especially with Antony and Godwin on her tail. Marian pushed her way to the middle of the square, searching left and right for any sign of him. But there was nothing. The Sheriff was a ghost.

"What are you doing?” Antony snarled, spinning her around without warning. “You think you can escape?”

"I saw him," she told Will, who had followed. She ignored Atony completely. "Will, I _saw_ him. The Sheriff, here’s here.”

Will grabbed her arm and dragged her away from Antony. “Marian, this is not helping!” 

She wrenched her arm out of his grip. “It’s the truth! I told you this was going to happen. You promised me I wouldn’t have to do this alone.” Her voice shook. “You still don't believe me?”

Will’s eyes tightened. “Once we get to Araluen we can figure all this out. But we can’t do it here.”

“I am not leaving,” she glared. “I am not leaving here until I catch him.”

Antony stepped in. “I knew she was guilty. But I didn’t think she was stupid. Treaty, if you don’t want to be dragged down with her, you’ll bring her back to the group immediately.”

“Marian,” Will pleaded. “Don’t make this harder. We can go after the Sheriff, like you wanted, after these charges are taken care of.” 

She stared at him, despair twisting in her belly. “We don’t have the time! If we don’t go after him now—“ 

The building behind them exploded.

RMRMRMRMRMR 

The first thing she felt was the weight on top of her. The first thing she heard was the screaming. Underneath it all roared the hungry fire. 

Marian coughed, smoke searing her lungs. Her head was ringing and her hands felt sticky. _What happened?_ One moment she was standing there, arguing. The next moment heat and air had thrown her to the ground. 

The soft, heavy weight on top of her shifted and she heard a groan of pain a lot closer than she expected. She wriggled free, gasping at the flare of pain in her arm. Marian looked around in horror at the billowing black smoke pouring from the gaping wreckage of the building. People writhed in pain in the streets. Even worse were the bodies that lay still. 

She became aware of the heat from the fire on her skin and tried to move away. Then she heard the groan again. 

“Will!” She scrabbled over to him, her hands still bound. Her face was scratched and bleeding and her arm throbbed. Will looked about the same as she felt, though he had a huge gash on his forehead. Blood ran down his face in a ghastly mask. The back of his head was already swelling, but at least he was breathing.

Marian shook his shoulder and he looked up at her, bleary-eyed and confused. The fire roared and crackled behind her and she knew they had to move back. She stood on shaky legs and slipped her hands underneath one of Will’s arms. She strained, dragging him across the ground. When they were at a safe distance she propped him against one of the remaining stone benches. Her lungs burned from the effort and from the smoke, but she wasn’t finished yet.

“Antony!” she shouted, hoping to find the other Ranger. After a moment, she realized she wouldn’t be able to hear an answer, if there was one, amid the chaos.

She stumbled back to where the explosion had thrown them, feeling the growing dread at the terrible scene around her. “Antony!” she tried again. Marian almost cried in relief when she spotted, by sheer luck, the Ranger cloak under a pile of debris. She pushed the debris off, using a rush of adrenaline to beat down the flames that had started to spread on the fabric. Antony was still out cold when she made it back to Will, but he was still alive too.

“Marian,” Will murmured. She knelt next to him. He was unfocused for the moment, but gaining clarity. She told herself he would heal. By some miracle, he would suffer no lasting injury. She wasn’t strong enough right now to believe anything else. The chaos from the terror the Sheriff had unleashed battered at her defenses. Rage from seeing him, here, hurting more people stole the breath from her lungs. She had to do _something_. Everything was crashing down around her and Will’s actions left her with only one option. The consequences of her choice flashed through her mind, but she didn’t care. She had let the Sheriff go once and because of that decision more people were dead. If she let him go again, with everything he had already done, she wasn’t sure she could live with herself.

“I’m sorry, Will.” She made sure he was looking at her. “But the Sheriff was here and you just saw what he can do. This is my shot to find him, and if you don’t believe in me…” Will frowned, understanding beginning to dawn in his face as Marian’s voice wavered. “No one will.” 

She snatched his knife belt and sliced through the ropes on her wrist. “No,” he protested weakly, grabbing her hands. Marian gave him a regretful look before slipping her hands out of his grip and sprinting back towards where she had left the ponies. She dodged those running away or running to aid the injured and closed her heart to their desperate pleas, no matter how much she ached to stop and help.

Marian spotted the ponies through the smoke, still tethered together. Their heads were turned toward the commotion. Any other horses would’ve sprinted away but the Ranger ponies had held to their training, though Marian could tell they were ready to bolt at any moment. 

Neither Lord Godwin nor his guards were anywhere to be seen. Marian didn’t wonder why, and she didn’t care—she didn’t have the time. She grabbed her weapons and supplies from Tug’s saddle. 

Sky whinnied, her eyes white with fear. Marian held Sky’s head she danced sideways. “Shhh, girl, it’s all right. Shhh look at me.”

Sky’s nostrils flared but she settled, butting her head against Marian’s chest and staring at her with trusting eyes. “I love you so much, you know that?” she murmured. Sky rubbed her head against Marian's shirt. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat before speaking. “I’m going to have to leave you for a while.”

At that Sky tossed her head sharply. _Absolutely not!_ She stomped her foot. 

“I need to keep you safe,” she said. “And I need to disappear. If I could bring you with me, I would. But I don’t think it’s possible.” 

Sky nickered and Marian touched her forehead to her pony’s. “The Rangers will watch over you until I come back. And I'll come back. I promise.” 

“Marian!” 

She whipped her head up and she saw Will stumbling towards her. His eyes were wide and he looked scared. “Don’t do this!”

Her heart stuttered and for a brief, flickering moment, she wanted to stay. She wanted to believe Will could fix all of this. But then she remembered the doubt in Will’s face when he looked at her and knew she couldn’t do it. She needed the nightmares and the fear that had plagued her since her return to end. The only way to do that was to hunt the Sheriff down. If she had to do it alone, so be it.

“Goodbye, Will,” she whispered. With a last kiss for Sky, she vanished into the smoke. At that moment, as the tower bells tolled slowly and Sky’s mournful neigh rose into the air, the Ranger’s apprentice became an outlaw.


	13. You Can't Save Everyone

Robin paced his room in the castle, absently twirling an arrow. He had little left in his room to keep him busy, having gone through it all during the first week of the palace quarantine. Jeremiah had required everyone to stay in their rooms until the disease had run its course, except for the cooks and other servants who were necessary for running the palace. The palace residents were required to attend inoculation sessions every other day, which Jeremiah’s specially selected guards conducted on rotations. Even after the first session Robin knew something was going on, and he had to figure it out. Soon. At least he had managed to enlist some help.

He heard tapping at one of the walls, following the prescribed rhythm. Robin tapped back and then one of the panels in his sitting room opened. Lucille stepped out of the hidden passage way, holding papers in her hand. “I’m still not sure what you’re concerned about Robin,” she said. “A quarantine is a perfectly legitimate response to an unknown sickness.” 

Robin took the papers from her, scanning the names of those who had been most recently examined. “I know you don't believe me yet. But there’s something about him…I don't trust him. Remember, you told me that he appeared at court without warning. Then this mysterious sickness he is an expert on suddenly appears. You don’t find that a bit strange?”

Lucille sat at the small desk in his suite of rooms. “You know what Prince John said about why he’s here.”

Robin flashed a grin in her direction. “You don’t believe the official story any more than I do. Isn’t that why you’re helping me?”

She shrugged delicately but didn’t deny the statement. “Let’s just say I’m enjoying the excitement. And it's nice to finally put my knowledge of the servants' halls to use.”

“If you’ve got any more secrets up your sleeve I would be grateful,” he said.

Lucille laughed. “All out for now, unfortunately. Did these reveal anything new?” she asked. 

Robin braced his hands on the table. The papers Lucille had brought, along with others they’ve collected since the quarantine started, were spread across the tabletop. They showed when the examinations occurred, who administered them, who was deemed sick and, ultimately, a list of the dead and their positions within the castle. That last list already had 30 names on it, and it was growing steadily. 

“There’s something here, I know it,” he muttered. “I just can’t see it.” 

Lucille rose, moving closer to Robin and placing a hand on his arm. “Maybe you’re trying to see something that isn’t there,” she said gently. 

Robin shot her a look and she sighed, resigned. “You are scheduled to have an inoculation tomorrow, yes?”

He nodded and Lucille squeezed his arm. “We’ll get more information then. Now, I better get going before someone notices I’m gone.” She stepped back into the secret passage.

“Lucille,” Robin called, looking up from the table. She paused on the threshold, her eyebrows raised. “Thank you. For helping me.” 

She smiled. “You’re very welcome. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” She closed the door behind her and wall in his room looked as impenetrable as the castle walls. Robin was left alone, staring at the papers that refused to give up their secrets. 

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Lucille pushed the panel open and stepped into her own rooms, a soft, cozy haven of blue and white. Annalise, the Countess of Gloucester, looked up from her cushioned chair, an embroidery hoop half-finished in her hand. 

Lucille crossed the room to her own table of carefully copied lists and added a few lines from her memory of Robin’s papers. 

Annalise cleared her throat. “Well?”

“Impatience is not becoming of a lady,” Lucille teased. She heard her friend’s skirts rustle as she joined Lucille at the table. 

“We’ll keep it our secret,” she winked, continuing to stitch. “Has Lord Locksley come to any revelations?” 

Lucille shook her head. “No, not yet. But he is suspicious.” 

“I’m surprised he is the only one,” Annalise mused. “Besides the Lady, of course. Why not tell him about this?” she gestured at the notes. “He would trust you even more, and that could only be beneficial to your assignment.”

Lucille shook her head. “I doubt it. If he knew I had been working on this on my own, it might raise his suspicious. Besides, when it comes to the situation at hand, I want to have another pair of eyes uninfluenced by my own thinking.” 

Annalise hummed in response. “In that case, while you were gone, I’ve compiled my own theories and connections, here,” she drew a piece of parchment closer. “But nothing stands out.” 

The women studied in silence until Lucille turned to Annalise. “We need a sample of that inoculation.” 

The needle froze above the cloth. “What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying we need a sample of the inoculation. And then we need to see Floria.”

Annalise pursed her lips. “You’re thinking poison, then.”

“You aren’t?” Lucille raised her eyebrows. 

Annalise frowned, her stitching forgotten. “But we know all the poisons. Surely you haven’t forgotten that year? We were both sick for weeks.”

“We know all the ones we learned. But you know how smart Floria is,” Lucille leaned against the table, keeping her voice low lets her entourage outside heard. “She’s an expert in all the things we haven’t learned, or don’t even know exist. Besides, if it is poison, she could likely develop an antidote. Which we might need,” she added with concern. 

“But why poison so many people? It is useful because it doesn’t bring attention. Now _everyone’s_ attention is on the palace,” Annalise mused. 

“But everyone thinks it’s an illness,” Lucille argued. “So no one will behunting for poison. Look,” she added, when her friend still appeared unconvinced. “I could be wrong. But it can’t hurt to be sure. Besides,” she smiled, sharp and conspiratorial. “I know you’re just as bored as I am, all cooped up in here.” 

Annalise laughed. “It might be good to stretch my legs a little, brush up on my skills.” 

Lucille clapped with delight. “Excellent! And I do believe I have a spare set of the necessary clothing and supplies for you.” 

“It will be just like the old days,” Annalise said, finally setting aside her embroidery. “Shall we?” 

RMRMRMRMRMRMR 

Robin rested his elbows on his knees, staring absently at the copper oak leaf in his hands, the chain twined through his fingers. He rubbed a thumb across its dented but gleaming surface. 

_"You can't save everyone," she said to him, her voice low. Moonlight limned her face and she titled her head slightly, as if she were searching for something. Or trying to understand him. Whatever it was, he felt something shift between them._

_"I can try."_

A loud banging at the door snuffed the memory from his mind and he looked up just as the palace guards entered his rooms without waiting for an invitation. It was time to test his theory about Jeremiah. 

"Gentleman," he pushed to his feet and sauntered forward, slipping the chain around his neck and allowing the oak leaf to stay visible against his shirt. "I was always told polite company waited for a response after knocking. What if I hadn't been decent?" He leaned his hip against the now-empty table. "Or maybe you were hoping that was the case?" He winked at the two guards, who simply glared. 

"I do apologize, Lord Locksley," Jeremiah pushed through the guards. "But I'm sure you can appreciate the need for--" his eyes lit upon the medallion. Robin watched as recognition flashed across his face and his skin paled for a few moments. 

Robin's smile sharpened as he locked eyes with Jeremiah. But the other man recovered quickly, clearing his throat. "You can appreciate the need for expediency." He motioned to one of the man carrying a tray of small cups, who brought the tray closer. Jeremiah chose one and handed it to Robin. 

"Have you made any progress on diagnosing the illness?" Robin asked. 

Jeremiah studied him. "'Not yet. It is a delicate process." 

"Then remind me how this," he held up the cup in his hand, "is going to work." 

"The inoculations are a precautionary measure," he explained as if speaking to a young child. "While we attempt to discern the cause of the illness and its cure, we can still attempt to keep those not already infected healthy." 

Robin sat back in one of the empty chairs, unperturbed by the looming presence of the guards. He swirled the contents of the cup. "And how is that working for you so far?"

"As expected." The tic in Jeremiah's cheek gave away his impatience. "The deaths until now are unfortunate, but sometimes that is the price we must pay. Now, if you please, we have many people to visit today." 

It took a moment for Robin to temper the anger that flared up at Jeremiah's callous dismissal of the people that had died. "If you need extra hands, I would be happy to help," he offered. "Perhaps if told me what exactly you use to create these?" 

"A generous proposal, Lord Locksley. But the cards have been played." Robin's eyes narrowed as Jeremiah continued. "I'm afraid all you can do now is wait." 

Robin tossed back the contents in his cup. Before he had time to swallow, one of the guards swiped the empty the cup from his hands. He got to his feet then and closed the distance between him and Jeremiah. Both guards reached for their weapons before Jeremiah stopped them with an outstretched hand, amusement glinting at the corner of his mouth. 

"Be warned," Robin said, his voice low. "Waiting has never been one of my strong suits." 

Jeremiah's eyes flicked down to the oak leaf medallion and Robin saw the veneer of humor crack for a moment. "I'll certainly keep that in mind," he said, his voice strained, before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room. 

Robin fiddled with the oak leaf, staring at the now empty doorway. Jeremiah’s swift exit certainly looked like a retreat. So why did he still feel so uneasy? 

RMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

Jeren burst through the door of Prince John’s study without bothering to knock. 

“He knows.” 

The prince barely glanced up from the book he was reading, a glass of wine on the table next to him. “Who knows what?” he drawled. 

“Locksley. He knows who I am.” Jeren braced himself against the windowsill, waiting for Prince John’s response. When he didn’t get one, he whirled around. “Well? Aren’t you worried?” 

John sighed heavily and closed the book, making sure to mark his place with a silk ribbon. “I am not surprised he managed to figure something out. Especially after fraternizing with that Ranger woman. Duval’s downfall was always underestimating him. Does he know everything?” 

Jeren shook his head. “I don’t know.” He remembered the vials that he thought he had misplaced the day before and wondered if Locksley had anything to do with it. But the man had been under surveillance since the quarantine began and there was no way he could have taken them. And yet…

“It’s possible,” he admitted. 

“Then we should move up our timeline.” 

Jeren clenched his jaw. “Is that wise? If we move too fast it could generate more suspicion. If you just let me eliminate Locksley—“

“No,” John interrupted, his voice brittle. “I want to see his face. I want to watch him realize that I’ve won.” He smiled coldly.

“Then we can eliminate him.”

RMRMRMRMR

King Richard looked up from his office desk at the knock on his door. He nodded slightly to the guard to open the door. 

One of the men administering the tests these past weeks walked through, holding a cup of Richard’s weekly inoculation that Jeremiah and the physician concocted. 

“Good afternoon, Caleb,” Richard said. His voice betrayed his exhaustion, as did his eyes. So many people in his charge have died and he was unable to do anything. He was stuck here, like everyone else. The King sat back with a sigh. He hadn’t been able to get in touch with Robin without raising suspicion but he knew enough to stay vigilant. That vigilance, plus the death toll, was weighing on him.

“Any more news?”

Caleb shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. No one else has fallen sick.” 

Richard stood up and came around the other side of his desk. “Well, thank the Lord for that small blessing at least.” 

“I couldn’t agree more, Your Majesty.” The personal guard put a hand on Caleb’s chest, keeping a distance between him and the King. Caleb inclined his head, then took a sip from the cup in his hand, showing the King that whatever was in it was safe to drink. They waited five minutes to see if anything took effect. When nothing happened Richard took the cup and drank. Who knew if it would work, but at least it was something. He hadn’t fallen sick so far. 

“Thank you, Caleb,” Richard said, sitting back down at his desk.

Caleb bowed stiffly and for a moment Richard thought his forehead glistened in the candlelight. “Stay well, Your Majesty,” he said. Then he left and the King returned to his work.

RMRMRMRMRMR

Robin awoke to loud, steady pounding on his door. It felt like he had only just gone to sleep. Bleary eyed, he stumbled to the door and came face to face with one of the royal palace guards. “What is it?”

“Prince John has summoned the nobility to the Grand Hall,” the guard said.

“What for?” Robin was waking up quickly, dread uncoiling in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m afraid I can’t say. But he requests your presence immediately.”

“All right, at least let me get my boots.” He put them on quickly, not even bothering to tuck in his shirt. The guard left him to go to the Grand Hall himself, while he went to wake the next noble trapped in the palace during quarantine. 

Robin forced himself to walk, rather than run, to the hall, but it was a close battle. When he got there a small crowd of nobility milled around in various states of lounge dress. He spotted Charles and Alexander and joined them. They were talking in hushed whispers, like most everyone here. Death hung about the castle and no one could disturb it.

“Locksley,” Alexander said as Robin arrived. “Don’t suppose you know what’s going on?”

Robin shook his head. “I’m as much in the dark as you are.” He looked over the two men. Charles had a haunted look in his eyes, and Alexander sported stubble that indicated he hadn’t bothered to shave for a while. He knew both of their retinues had taken losses from the sickness, or whatever it was going through the castle.

“Whatever it is it can’t be good,” Charles said. “This whole thing has turned into a nightmare.”

“Maybe it’s to announce that the quarantine has finally lifted,” Alexander replied. He shrugged in response to both Robin’s and Charles’s skeptical look. 

“Then why are nobles the only ones here?” Robin said under his breath. He looked around the room but everyone appeared just as confused as he was. He spotted Lucille speaking with another group, her face stern and focused. But before he could catch her eye, Prince John entered the hall from behind the throne. Michael followed him, pale, with red-rimmed eyes. Fear spiked through him when Queen Eleanor entered the room as well. She looked as impeccable as ever, almost gliding across the dais with her chin high. But the lines on her face appeared deeper and there was something about her expression that boded ill. When Robin spotted a familiar wax-sealed scroll in Michael’s hands, it took all of his strength to stay on his feet.

John didn’t have the same commanding presence as Richard. Still, a quiet intensity emanated from him and forced an oppressive hush on the crowd. Everyone moved closer together, whether in curiosity or solidarity Robin couldn’t say.

“My lords and ladies,” Prince John began. His voice was sorrowful and Robin couldn’t stand how perfectly fake it was. His hands curled into fists of their own accord and he had to order himself to breathe normally. “I have some terrible news to share with all of you. The sickness that has swept through this castle has claimed another. My heart breaks with having to tell you…” Robin almost snarled at the Prince. “King Richard is dead.”

The shocked silence that descended broke apart at the first sharp cry of denial. It was stifled quickly, as was some of the weeping, for the nobility had images to maintain. But many of those present couldn’t hide the tears that glistened on their cheeks or the pale pallor of their skin.

Robin looked to Michael, a part of him wondering if Prince John was simply lying. But the seneschal gave him the slightest nod, and his eyelids flickered with grief. That was all the confirmation Robin needed. Prince John had finally managed to kill King Richard. To kill his brother. Everything Robin had worked for, everything and everyone he had sacrificed, was for nothing. 

“I know this news is difficult to bear,” Prince John. He seemed to be doing an admirable job of communicating it. “But to preserve the order, and to find someone to attempt to fill the spot my brother has so successfully held these past years, I have called you all here to witness the passing of succession, according to his will.”

Michael stepped forward and the crack of the breaking seals echoed in the again silent room. Then he began to read. “Here is the last will and testament of King Richard I, Richard the Lionheart, of England. Upon the event of my death my heir shall inherit the crown and royal authority over all the lands of England. On this day I shall name my son, William, as the rightful heir to the crown.”

Prince John finally let his mournful mask crack when he looked up sharply at Michael. But only the most keen-eyed observers would have seen Queen Eleanor’s flicker of surprise, and what some may have described as relief. Michael looked over the heads of the crowd, and said clearly over the growing noise, “I name William my heir in the presence of my witness, Lord Robin of Locksley.”

All eyes turned to Robin, including Prince John’s. The young lord stared defiantly back, tears in his eyes. 

Hate writhed in Prince John’s belly as he watched his plans break apart. With a few simple words, the crown had slipped through his fingers. Again. The rage that filled him would bring a chill that could make winter itself shiver.

Michael rolled up the scroll. “The King is dead. Long live the King.”


	14. The Enemy of My Enemy

Robin packed frantically, stuffing clothes into bags and grabbing weapons from where he had stashed them. A part of his mind realized that he hasn’t been used to woodland living for a while, considering the time it was taking to pack up all of his possessions right now. 

There was a knock at his door. Robin grabbed a knife, but angled his body so the visitor wouldn’t see it. He barely had time to open the door before Lucille burst in, twisting one of her rings around her finger. “You need to leave. Now.”

Robin shut the door again. “Why?” He already knew he did, but he wondered why Lucille had arrived to tell him so.

She looked calm, but there was a certain tightness to her voice that betrayed her nerves. “I saw Prince John’s face during the reading of the will. He’s going to try to kill you and Prince William. And without you, William won’t stand a chance.”

“You don’t seem too surprised at the prince being alive.” He sheathed his knife and continued his packing, surreptitiously gauging her response. But Lucille’s mouth quirked into a smile. She knew what he was doing.

“To be honest, I’m still trying to process it. But I am relieved there is still someone between John and the throne.” Then her smile faded. “Robin, I’m so sorry. I thought we had more time.”

Robin closed his eyes. The loss of his King yawned like a pit before him and he struggled not to fall. He didn’t have the time to contemplate that right now. He probably wouldn’t have the time for a long while. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “It’s mine.”

“No,” she shook her head sharply. “Robin—“

The door slammed open behind him and both of them spun around in surprise. A guard stood there, one he recognized from the weekly inoculation sessions. Robin angled his body between Lucille and the guard. 

“Please come with me Lord Locksley. The Prince requests your presence.”

Robin cocked his head. “I’m afraid I’m a little busy. Come back tomorrow.” 

The guard frowned, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. But he kept it sheathed for now. “You can’t ignore the Princes’ request.”

“Please sir,” Lucille edged around Robin, her eyes wide and pleading. She placed her hand on the guard’s wrist, just above the edge of his sleeve. The guard jumped, as if stung by a bee. “Give us a few moments? Lord Locksley and I are simply trying to mourn the passing of our King.”

The guard shook her off and she stumbled backwards. “The King is dead,” he growled. “Now come with me.” 

He drew his sword and Robin backed up, crouching. “Give Johnny-boy by regrets,” Robin said. He was done with pretense. If he didn’t get out now, he wasn’t getting out of the castle at all. The guard lunged, but he was off-balance and tripped over his own feet. Robin easily sidestepped, frowning as the guard shook his head and looked at him with unfocused eyes.

“Wh-what’s happening?” the guard slurred. He wavered on his feet and then collapsed, unconscious, without Robin having to lift a finger. Robin stared at the man lying still on his floor, his mind scrambling to figure out what just happened.

“Robin.” He looked up at Lucille, who was completely unperturbed by the unconscious man at her feet. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“What did you do?” he asked.

“A lady has to have a few tricks up her sleeve to defend herself,” she said with a half-smile. It disappeared quickly when Robin didn’t react. “Come on, it will wear off in a little bit. You need to leave.” 

She was right, unfortunately. He grabbed his packed bags and the weapons he had ready. “You should go back to your rooms. I’ll barely have enough time to get through the castle without people seeing me.” He stopped talking when he noticed her look. “What?”

“Go back to your rooms? Who was it that just incapacitated the guard?” She asked. Robin squirmed until Lucille relented, rolling her eyes. “Follow me. I know about more than one secret passageway.” 

They entered the servant’s passageway and Robin followed her through the dark, winding corridor. They didn’t speak, the darkness and silence heightening the pressure to escape. Eventually, Lucille pushed at another panel in the wall and the two of them stepped into a cold, empty room. White sheets covered in dust were draped over furniture, looking like inanimate ghosts. The rush of new air made the sheets flutter, as if they were whispering to each other of a forgotten past. Robin looked around at the spacious rooms. “Where are we?”

“The Queen’s wing,” Lucille answered softly, touching the sheet that covered what looked like a baby’s crib.

“Shouldn’t the room be lived in then?” Robin asked.

Lucille looked at him quizzically, then she understood his confusion. “Not Eleanor. Berengaria, Richard’s wife.” She sighed and then moved across to the other side of the room. “Come on, there is a tunnel here. It will lead you out to the Thames, where there is a hidden dock for escape.”

She opened the entrance and Robin stared resignedly into the gaping hole of blackness. Before he entered yet another dark hallway, he turned to Lucille. “You should come with me. If that guard identifies you to Prince John…”

She waved him off. “I will be fine. You just have to get out of here and get to Prince William before John does. Now go! The guard is probably waking up by now.”

Will’s life was at stake and no matter where he stepped he was risking it. But he was going to have to take a chance, and this seemed as good a chance as any. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.” 

“Good luck,” she whispered. Robin stepped into the musty passage and hesitated at the top of the descending staircase. Before he was a few steps in, Lucille closed the door behind him and left him to the dark.

RMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

Lucille stepped back into her rooms, smoothing her skirts. “Jason,” she called. One of her men at arms poked his head into the room. “I’ve been away from home too long. I can’t bear the thought of staying in these walls another minute. Please have my horse saddled and ready to leave as soon as possible.”

“My lady, the quarantine hasn’t been lifted. Prince John’s orders…”

She arched an eyebrow and Jason stopped talking. “Right away, my lady.” 

Jason left and Lucille snapped her fan open, waving it absently as her mind worked furiously. She wasn’t worried about the quarantine, not anymore. She could handle the Prince, and Anna was working with Floria. Her priority now was figuring out how to get to Locksley before Robin did.

RMRMRMRMRMRMRM

A man sat at a corner table in a pub located at the outer fringes of London. His once long, shining blonde hair was now roughly shorn. Now it hung about his face, obscuring his sharp features and dark eyes. 

The man that used to be Guy of Gisborne nursed his mug of cheap, tasteless ale and listened to the murmur of conversation around him. This time of the night the number of people in the pub was just tipping past crowded. Even the seediest of pubs got its fair share of customers in London and Guy fit right in. He had spent enough nights in here that now he blended right in with the rest of the crowd.

Tonight, the only subject on people’s tongues was the quarantine at the palace. No one had heard a word from the castle for weeks now and the lack of any facts let people’s imaginations run. Guy didn’t much care what was going on behind those doors, so long as it didn’t concern him. 

He watched the customers idly, noting those who weren’t going to make it home on their own, the deals going down in the shadowy corners, and the huddled groups of gamblers around tables. The door opened and shut as another group entered the pub. The crowd shifted, something more felt than seen, to accommodate the newcomers. One of the figures split away from the group, threading their way through the crowd. Guy smirked to himself, noticing the way the stranger kept his head down, angling towards the back of the place. He wasn’t the first person to try and hide in a rundown pub and he wouldn’t be the last. Guy was ready to dismiss him until the figure threw a carefully casual glance over his shoulder.

“Son of a bitch,” Guy cursed under his breath. What the hell was Robin Hood doing here? Guy needed to leave, right now. Wherever that man went, trouble always followed. And Guy had had enough trouble to last a lifetime.

Just as he was about to push himself to his feet, the door opened once again. _Too late._

Two more men who were clearly part of the palace guard though they wore no livery, walked in. Guy watched from his chair, stricken with fear as the men scanned the crowd. They were going to recognize him. They were going to drag him out of this pub and throw him down in front of the King all because Robin Hood had walked into this pub. He could already hear the jeers, the condemnation. He could feel the iron shackles on his wrist. The pain.

The seconds ticked by and they finally spotted his table. He locked eyes with one of the men and Guy braced for a shout. But there was no flash of recognition. No rush to arrest him. He was simply another poor sap sitting in the corner of a dank building getting drunk on shitty ale. The guards passed him by.

Guy let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He looked back down at the ale, watching little bits of mysterious somethings floating in the bottom. Then he pushed it away and stood up. He knew who they were looking for. And he knew where their target had gone.

RMRMRMRMRMR

Robin slipped through the kitchen, looking for a back door. If he could give the guards following him the slip, he was confident he could get out of the city.

He found a small alcove off of the main room, empty for the moment. Unopened crates and sacks were piled near a door and the shelves were stocked full of jars and baskets of supplies. Robin smiled in relief at his good luck.

“Looks like you’re an outlaw again.”

Robin froze, his hand on the latch of the back door. He clearly wasn’t the only one to have found the back door to the pub. He turned around.

Guy of Gisbourne stood behind him, arms crossed. “What exactly have you done now?”

Robin’s mind raced, trying to figure out how the man who used to be one of his greatest enemies could be here, _now_ , of all times. “I didn’t do anything, actually.”

Guy raised one eyebrow. 

“Hard to believe, I know,” Robin said, his eyes flicking over Guy’s shoulder, looking for the men who had followed him in here. “But I’m in a bit of a hurry, so if you don’t mind.”

He turned to leave, but Guy spoke up again. “I saw the men who were after you. Looked like the king’s men.” Robin faced him again, glowering. Guy shrugged. “I don’t care what you did or didn’t do. All I care about is what they’ll give me if I turn you in.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Robin snapped. “You couldn’t do it even when you had wealth and power. You don’t have any of those anymore.”

Guy’s eyes flashed with anger. “Not yet,” he said. “But I’m sure whatever the reward it is, it will set me up for a long while.” He opened his mouth to shout a warning.

Robin’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t fail, not after all of this. “Wait! Please.” 

Guy paused. Robin didn’t know why and he wasn’t about to question it. His chance was disappearing quickly. “The King is dead,” he told him. Shock flickered across Guy’s face, but otherwise he said nothing. Robin pressed on. “The King is dead and Prince John murdered him. But Richard’s son still lives and if I don’t get to him first, John will kill him too.” 

There was a long, heavy pause. He heard people laughing in the other room. Someone dropped drinkware and it shattered.

“Why should I care?” Guy finally asked.

Robin stared at him, agape. “Is that a serious question?”

“Yes. You may have been close personal friends with King Richard, but I was not. One king is just the same as another. Besides, I might even be better off if John was king.”

“Setting aside the simple fact that it is wrong to murder someone, much less a brother who is the king of England, it will be much worse for you under John’s reign.” Robin tried to tamp down his anger and think of some way to connect to Guy. “You betrayed him, and he isn’t one to forget that.”

“I betrayed the Sheriff, not Prince John.” Guy said. “There is a difference.”

Robin levelled a look at him. “I never pegged you for being that naïve. The Sheriff reported directly to Prince John. You don’t think he knows everything that happened? And you know exactly what that man is capable of.”

Guy shifted unable to look Robin in the eye. The silence dragged painfully on, until Robin couldn’t wait anymore. Any second those guards would find their way back here. “You know what? I don’t care if you care. In fact, I’m not asking you to do anything.” Robin looked at him and hoped Guy didn’t hear the desperation in his voice. “All I’m asking is that you do nothing.” 

He didn’t say the rest of the sentence aloud. _You’re good at doing nothing_.

Guy frowned, staring at the floor without really looking at it. “You won’t be able to get out of the city by yourself,” he finally said.

“I think you know me better than that,” Robin said drily.

Guy shook his head. “While you’ve been quarantined in the castle, the number of roaming patrols has increased and there are checkpoints all over the city.” 

Robin closed his eyes and mentally ran through every curse word he knew. He stopped his tirade as Guy spoke up. 

“I’ll help you get out. For a price.”

Robin was about to tell him exactly where to stick that price. But a sudden burst of raised voices made his skin crawl. “What?”

“Look, all I want to get out of this country.” Guy crossed his arms. “If what you say is true, it doesn’t look like that will happen if I stay here. But if you give me enough money and food to travel out of England, I’ll help you get back to Locksley.”

Robin studied Guy. He couldn’t tell if he was being sincere, or if this was some elaborate trap. But if he was honest, he could only see one road out of here and Guy was standing in the middle of it. If this is what it took to save the kingdom….

He held out his hand for Guy to shake. “Deal.” 


End file.
